#another dead fandom from 2019

[m2rs0]

[juniperpyre]

lily evans potter: womanhood, motherhood & morality

lily as the dream girl in canon and fan spaces

i want to talk about this while there isn't a current upsurge in the discourse

Lily Evans Potter is introduced to us as Lily Potter, the dead mother of Harry Potter. Lily and James potter, dead, leaving their poor, miraculous son to live with the dull, horrible Durselys. We only ever see her through, with the exception of her sister, the memory of men.

I've said before that I believe James and Lily are the ideal masculine and ideal feminine, both to Harry and in a metatextual way. parents are our introduction into gender roles, the "correct" way to be a man and woman. since Lily is dead she cannot disappoint Harry. she can be imagined as the perfect woman, which is, of course, a wife and mother. the dream girl!

Lily's death makes her a silent, ever-loving, beautiful young mother, for both Harry and the reader. James is slightly deconstructed in SWM, but Lily is not. She is a fierce protector, brave, clever, and only emotional (angry) once James, her future husband, provokes her enough.

in the text Lily is not truly presented as flawed in a meaningful way. the moral choices she makes: to build a relationship with Severus, to defend Severus, to break their relationship when he refuses to reject bigotry, to join the Order, to die for her child, are all the correct moral choices. these are the choices the narrative is telling us to respect.

women have, for the past 200 years or so, been conceived of as the moral center of the family.* Lily Evans Potter is the moral center of the series. her choice to die is mirrored by the main character, Harry, and sparks the beginning of victory. Harry's sacrifice is enabled by another mother, Narcissa, making the correct moral choice because the power of her maternal love urges her to this choice. finally, Voldemort's most powerful follower, Bellatrix, is killed by a housewife and mother, Molly, in a maternal rage at the idea of her daughter being murdered.

Lily's sacrifice and the emotions behind it are mirrored multiple times in the final battle because it and she are the moral center of the series.

that Harry is frequently told he has his mother's eyes, and that Dumbledore points out how his essential nature mirrors his mother's, further highlights Lily's character and her choices as implicitly good.

women, especially mothers, as our moral authorities, is an unconscious cultural belief we can see play out in the fandom and subfandoms that Lily is discussed in. we can all recall the characterization of Lily as the goody-two shoes that James has to change for, the characterization of Lily as "not like other girls", the BAMF characterization, the current near mommy dom to James characterization.

the characterization of Lily changes with our view of the best kind of woman. but she is, always, demonstrating a most "correct" way to be. maybe it's 2007 and she's telling James off—not fun, but right. or it's 2012 and she's not preoccupied with boys like her classmates. or it's 2019 and she always knows the right thing to say to Remus when he's down on himself. or it's 2025 and James is trailing after her like a puppy while she contemplates what size strap to use on him after she beats up a bigot.

We don't see a lot of moderate views on Lily. Above, I've discussed how Lily lovers tend to portray her. Lily haters, a smaller group from what I can tell, do not utilize these common fanon characterizations. They disparage her as an immoral, selfish, bad woman. The wholesale rejection of Lily as the moral center based on her perceived immorality is the other side of the coin.

I'll refer to people with this perspective as "Lily haters" though I am aware there are people who dislike her outside of the topics I'm discussing.

I rarely engage with Lily haters, though I am aware of their arguments that Lily was a bad friend to Severus, a social climber, a gold digger, or boring. All grave sins for the woman who's supposed to save everyone.

This perspective doesn't reject Lily as the moral center or the perfect woman, it is an argument that she's not fulfilling her role correctly. Her unwillingness to give Severus more chances is selfish, stuck-up, classist. Her desire for James is an further betrayal of Severus.

She's supposed to be the Madonna, why is she being a whore?

I believe Lily hate comes from a belief she failed at being the perfect woman/mother, and therefore she is worthless. A bitch. Weak willed. Oversexed. even by haters her role as the moral center is not questioned.

in both the og text and in the fandom supertext Lily is the moral center because of her role as mother. her status as the moral center is inextricably tied to her motherhood. since Lily being a mother is the point of her character, divorcing her from her motherhood often changes the foundation of her character.**

when her literal motherhood is removed from a depiction of her character, her metaphorical status as the perfect woman/mother is often still intact. this is seen in the characterizations I described earlier, and, I argue, in the belief that she's too good for James when it is used as a "justification" for shipping James with someone else.*** thereby, she is further purified, not even having been touched by a man. she's put on a pedestal, where she can't be touched, and is rarely noticed.

it is also frequently seen when she is written as a side character in a relationship with James, and the pair become the dual moral guides for the main couple.

this reflects James and Lily as the ideal masculine and feminine, as they are a perfectly harmonious couple when a side pairing. their implicit canonical roles are subconsciously reflected in fanon with little critique or commentary on the canon text.

Lily's entire character is crafted to be The Perfect Mother™️. whether she is literally a mother in her fanon depiction or not, she is still The Perfect Woman™️—and is still affected by the biases our culture has towards women and mothers.

thus, Lily is the dream girl in the text, the moral center only seen through a nostalgic veil, and a dream girl in fan spaces, as the moral guide for the men in her life who pegs her husband or is too pure for the touch of a man.

for more on gender in the wizarding world, based on gender in early modern england (pre the cult of domesticity) see this post

*see the cult of domesticity if you'd rather not read the article

**please like fucking do not fucking act like I'm saying you cannot do this. I swear to fucking god

***you don't need to justify your ships

[transmechanicus]

this is. probably a very personal question.

Is it worth it? Transitioning? In spite of it all?

Completely, utterly, and absolutely. I’m one of those ppl who knew i was trans since i was like 8. I found out when i was probably 13/14 what transgender meant, but recoiled from it because i could not imagine a world that would accept me or where i would be happy with the result. At 15 i met my first other trans person, and they became my friend and partner and the first person to ever know i was trans. Being around them, known by them, was such a colossal psychological relief and source of joy unlike anything i had known before. It made separating from them after graduation all the more excruciating to lose that one person i had trusted with that truth.

Sometime over the next two years i came out to my Mom, but nothing really changed, and i had more or less resolved to rot and die under the identity i had been born into. I let my undergrad studies chew me up, neglected all but the most necessary body maintenance, and spent every moment outside work or class buried in video games or books. At some point something snapped out of place, or perhaps back into place. I knew i didn’t want to die like this. I wanted something more for my life and my flesh than being a half dead servitor stocking yogurt. I wanted to transition, and however slowly, however long it took, that’s what i resolved to do.

It took a while. I had no real finances, no privacy, and little independence. I was coming from a white low-self-expression, high-control household. I “messed up” while base coating warhammer models one time and gave myself black nails. My dad berated me about it for days before trying to pin my hands down and sand the paint off (didn’t work, thank you automotive primer). When i was ~22 i got my ears pierced, basically the first permanent part of my transition, and i had never known as much joy as i did driving home knowing the pain was a step of permanent progress. Around this time 2019/2020 i started being out online, more vocal about being transgender as opposed to just having a relatively inexpressive fandom blog with no info beyond my name.

When i was 24, two years ago i came out to my dad, and a week later i left for grad school halfway across the country. I had an apartment all to myself, and my own source of income. I spent my spare change building up a wardrobe of new clothes that i actually liked. I got my first year of grad school done mostly without anything remarkable. Went to some queer events at my school. Found a partner. Got loved to bits for a while. Re-came out to my parents over the summer, and this time it stuck. Started HRT that fall, 2023. Came out to my classmates and coworkers and was rewarded with support and acceptance. Lost the partner. Devastated. Resolve to get even hotter and cooler. Smash out 3 piercings and a tattoo inside a week. Develop personal fashion sense. Attend research conference. Get better at makeup. Go to some concerts. Increase HRT. Tiddy Arc. Buy bra with a supportive bestie. Start weekly therapy. Increase HRT. Cosplay at a major convention. Schedule another tattoo. More HRT. Bra no longer optional. Present day. Tattoo on Wednesday. 90% of progress packed into the last year or so. Undeniably hotter, happier, and more self-expressive than anything in the last 24 years prior.

Transitioning is more than worth it, it brings me so much relief and joy every day no matter how shitty my day is otherwise, and while i have known doubt, i have never for an instant known regret.

There is still time🖤🏳️‍⚧️💕

[074calicocat]

NOT FUNNY ؛ ଓ

cw: dad-daughter incest (scary I know), tit sucking, cheating, one mention of past abuse (reader got kicked in the ribs by asshole Leon the horrors), 400-something words of tomfoolery

notes: I haven't touched this Tumblr account since 2019. I used to be super into Marvel but I did a total power wash, which wasn't hard since I only reblogged two posts. I even change my tacky username which I will promptly forget about forever. On another note, I haven't posted my own writing since 2020 on WATTPAD OF ALL SITES. I've always written fanfics for myself (especially dead dove ones), but I made it my unofficial new years resolution to post my works online because I want to having The Fandom experience everyone talks about and it will Not be on godforsaken TikTok.

Your dad likes to joke that you came out like this because on your last birthday, he banged your head on the table by accident when he tried smashing your face in your cake.

“I’m telling you,” he muses, holding you steady in his lap while kissing down the valley of your chest. Your t-shirt was pushed up under your chin with your bra, leaving your breasts in the air for his leering eyes and desperate hands. “You scrambled your brains that day and here you are now: a slut for your own dad.”

You wanted to argue that he was worse because he could’ve put a stop to this months ago but just doesn’t. He probably gets off to degrading you. It’s a good thing you don’t care much but still, you huff and mutter, “not funny” under your breath.

“You made the first move, by the way,” you counter, breath hitching as his lips latched onto your nipple. God, he was such a baby for an old man with the way he drooled and suckled on you, his other hand pawing at your free breast. “Five months ago. At…at…Mom’s birthday party! Wow, you really are sick, you fucked me on her side of the bed.”

It was stupid of you to mention that but you get your pride is as high as his sometimes. Usually, Leon would push you off his lap and walk away all stone-faced as if you insulted his entire bloodline. Your mother was a touchy subject, especially during the first few weeks of…whatever you and him had going on. He even threw you down and kicked you in the ribs one time which you still have bruising from. But, surprisingly, this time he does nothing. Instead, he just rolls his eyes at you like a pouty teen and switches to your other nipple, scraping his teeth along the sensitive bud. 

“Forget about it,” he mumbles, lips slick with his spit as he speaks against your skin. “And I’m not sick. She’s just not-” he raises his head, crashing his mouth against yours. It’s the type of kiss you especially hate with all the drool and teeth but there’s not much you can do once he wraps his hand around your throat and holds you still. 

“She’s not into me anymore,” he breathes, playfully biting down on your bottom lip just to see your face scrunch up in pain. Asshole. But despite himself, he soothes you with his cheek nuzzling against yours, like two cats rubbing together. What a contrast, his calloused hand holding your throat while his beard gently tickles at your face. 

“But at least you’re into me. I don’t need her. Just you.”

[cheruberris]

○ ۫ ⠀،،̲ cheruberries 草莓 ͟ ͟𝐹ame ACTRESS! dr

vogue, 73 questions with ℒILITH MARGARETA TASHEV ✸ ،،̲ what do you think about your fans? ━━ ' um not much lol ... '

⠀⠀၇୧ ⠀ᅟ𓈒⠀ inside jokes and trivia u have to know within my actress! fame dr fandom!

tw death . i wrote a short book (about 26 pages total) called 'till death do us part' at the age of 14. and self published it (i mean.. released it on tumblr) at fifteen (2015) The book dealt with topics such as death, the male gaze, obssesion (especially with male validation), light substance abuse throughout alcohol and drugs, even sex etc. it was niche but huge on certain corners of tumblr dot com. you'd see quotes like ' When he walked by my casket, his eyes instinctively wandered to my thighs that were surprisingly visible in the little white dress they clothed me in- I took pride in the fact that even when I was dead, I was sexy enough. ' on every sad girls tumblr page. ˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 the whole context and concept of the book is hilarious. considering in every interview where i'm asked about my biggest fear i always instantly respond, "death." what prompted me to write it?? no clue.⠀

famous in my fandom especially became the era starting around 2019, where i did everything as to not be associated with 'till death do us part' . i felt like i wrote it in a bad mental state, and didn't want people romanticing neither the narrator nor woody && the topics it was overall dealing with. people were making it my whole thing, and i don't like being put into boxes.

but yeah. it turned into a meme how i'd literally block the term 'sequel' and the name of the book, from my mentions on socials. my fans now call it 'she who shall not be named' whenever they talk about it (つ╥﹏╥)つ

in terms of pop culture whenever there is a mean, manipulative and even just questionable man on the horizon he will be deemed 'a woody'. or woody energy. people genuinely use that saying, so weird. there was also this whole trend on tiktok, where i was asked to narrate the prologue of the book in an interview .. i agreed to it reluctantly. one sentence went viral as a voiceover and got used in those thirst trap edits all throughout 2020 ಥ﹏ಥ traumatized.

i got a marketing degree and dabbled in creative direction and marketing, i stayed away from social media and even deleted tumblr. it was all getting to serious to quick, considering that i was still young at the time. me going off socials and deleting apps to detox every once in a while is also an inside joke!! people gen say 'i'm pulling a lilith tashev' when they take a break from apps.

i got my first acting role through my marketing degree, because i was supposed to assist directing and marketing on euphoria. but.. i looked so georg that they ended up adding me to the show ... pretty privilege much ? ఌ︎. my character had some issues fr fr. like 'licking molly of some random dilfs dog tag type' issue (and daddy issues but shhh) and was honestly non fixable. people started saying that 'she was totally like irl me!!' which made me really uncomfortable. i guess that's what you get for not being online enough. people don't really know you like that. so i re-installed insta. i swear my fans are like male-manipulators, they know how to get me to react!!! :3

another thing about the socials situation ── there is this joke that i genuinely heal the world whenever i post something. whenever a new instagram photo dump hits the timeline, my fans are like 'look at her fixing climate change one step at a time 🥹 ' 'the world is healing!!!!' they are so DEPRAVEDDDD.

anyway. outer banks.

look. i was exhausted post-euphoria. like, mentally, emotionally, spiritually dehydrated. and my agent was like “okay babe but what if you did this beach show with hot people and treasure maps-” and i was like no thank you. and then she sent me a picture of drew starkey’s face. and i was like okay fine!

my character is this bratender. who is a brat, no pun intended. she's not a progue, not a kook ── highly doubt she even knows who she is herself. then episode five happened, and the rest was.. herstory. slow burn enemies to lovers with rafe cameron??? c'mon the people ate it up.

people were tiktoking the living shit out of the romance. like there's a clip of me getting lightly choked coupled up with ride by lana del rey lurking around somewhere. lana del rey is genuinely always my top #1 fan edit choice.

but anyway. the era was art and chaos.

except for when someone printed out a fan edit of our sex scene and asked me to sign it at a convention. BLOCKED. then people started meme-ing that, to the point where i still have people in my dms with a random screenshot of that infamous scene, being like 'sign pls 💔 💔' GET OUT OF MY DMS!!

even the cast started getting in on it. at a comic con panel, someone asked “what was the hardest scene to film?” and drew just slowly turned to me and said “emotionally? or physically?” URGHHHHH somebody get his talking license revolved dude gets me WEAK.

another meme from the era was a random fan, high af tweeting 'they’re like if mr. darcy and euphoria rue had a baby and she grew up in north carolina.' like what does that even mean?? there are people on etsy selling shirts with it #trust

don't even get me started on everything that went down between me and drew. i'd be here for days :O

[miffysoo]

long rant coming up regarding sakura; and to preface, i’m a sakura defender until the day i die, so if you have an issue w her, gtfo and scroll on by 🫶🏼

the amount of hatred this girl got and still gets is so trifling to me. like, i was in the trenches defending her in like 2019-2022. and my love and defense of her reignited bc ive been getting more sakura videos on my tiktok fyp.

now, most of the reasons why people reason they hate sakura is always the same recycled explanations of her being “useless”, too obsessed w sasuke, she’s annoying, and while not a new argument, her confession scene to naruto lying that she loved him being what sparked this post from me in the first place.

i could sit here for days and go on & on about how much of that reasoning is purely rooted in misogyny which isn’t surprising within both the naruto fandom, and anime fandom in general with the amount of brain dead “anime dude bros” unfortunately filling these spaces up.

but in addition to the blatant misogyny of how women are all talked about, displayed, written, and treated within a lot of shounen anime, there just seems to be some kind of mind numbing wall in the minds of sakura haters who simply don’t want to acknowledge her genuine character development. it’s not even complex thinking, people just want to hate her. it’s always been some incessant band wagon to hate her for no real rooted reason. you can dislike her personality, that’s objective at the end of the day, but to say she never changed and developed is what gets me going.

i find her to be the one of the most humane & raw out of the characters. she has flaws yes, but she learns and grows and again, changes!

a lot of it comes down to a lack of understanding, empathy, and just plain old double standards. people shit on her for liking sasuke as if she wasn’t a child. her affections for him carried on in their teens in shippuden, but she had a real purpose. it wasn’t fangirling anymore. but oh when naruto is deadass dreaming about this man, going even crazier & losing his mind over sasuke, it’s okay? like sakura’s the obsessed one? naruto’s even worse 😭 don’t pmo. both of them were willing to do crazy shit for him. but of course it’s wrong when sakura does it.

the useless argument is the in fact, the dumbest one. she’s canonically the strongest kunoichi (argue w a wall atp if you disagree, idc) as is present time. not only did she go on to become one of the pillars of konoha, but her role as a medic ninja is insanely overlooked. which is crazy bc more than half of the cast would be dead if not for her. being useful does not equate to just combat. the only time that argument held true was is in the very first part of naruto when they were all 12 still bc she genuinely was just being saved by naruto & sasuke all the time. but guess what, development happens!!! but so many people hate to admit that for some reason.

now to what brought this whole entire rant to light - her treatment towards naruto is always a reason people antagonize her. a lot of the times i need to remember that a majority of her haters consist of pathetic men, sorry not sorry. they can’t fathom rejection in an appropriate way. they couldn’t handle her rejecting naruto all the time so they resort to shaming her as a woman.

her and naruto have truly experienced everything together; no one really understands how profound sasuke’s absence was to them, and only they understand it. on top of that, their growing friendship in shippuden and unwavering loyalty & support to one another was so prominent. when we talk about her fake confession to naruto, it needs to be understood that it’s not a black and white situation; it was the concept of “doing the wrong things for the right reasons”. her lying to naruto wasn’t right, but she was guilt ridden & emotional. she ultimately tried to protect naruto bc she couldn’t handle watching him self destruct over trying so hard to get sasuke back. she thought it’d stop him. and when he saw through it bc they were both desperate & hurting, she still decided to try to go after sasuke to kill him FOR naruto to ease his burden and heartache. it truly isn’t that complex to see that.

again, you don’t have to agree or like her decision but understanding it isn’t rocket science. it’s crazy how many people lack compassion & empathy towards her as if she wasn’t a literal teenager in the midsts of war. she was acting on emotion bc she was hurting & impulsive. none of the choices sakura & naruto made regarding sasuke were ever based on rationale, are you kidding me. but again to emphasize, they were teens in a war.

at the end of the day, you don’t have to like her character. but the lengths people will go to try and invalidate her development and simply just villainize her to the extent they do is insane as if she wasn’t a 16 year old for a majority of the series. i don’t even see people get this upset over fucking danzo or orochimaru.

but they could never make me hate her.

[sunaddicted]

Instead of a 2024 fic review, in honour of 2025 being my 10th year posting my writing on ao3, I thought it would be fun to do a little recap year by year of my most liked fics.

It's fascinating to see which fandoms came and went and which turned out to be there to stay!

If you're as curious as I was and maybe want to (re)discover some of my older fics, some links and stats await you under the "read more" 💛

2015

My resolution for the new year is to go back to my origins and start writing again for the Tolkien fandom!

Enthralling (Silmarillion, Angbang) is hands down one of my best fics to this day, despite the fact that my English wasn't as good as it is now! If you want to read about Mairon seducing the mightiest of the Valar, this is the best take I wrote on it!

~

2016

Sentient Reflection (DCU, Superbat) not only was the first superbat fic I wrote but it also was my first one in the DC fandom and folks, as you very well know, I've been digging this particular hole deeper and deeper with no signs of hitting rock bottom.

One sour note, is seeing Selfish Prayers (James Bond, 00q): I'm sorry to everyone who followed it and was a fan but it will never be finished 😔

~

2017

It was the year of James Bond AUs! Omega!Bond and alien!Q clearly were the favourites, with The Odd One (James Bond, 00q) - the first instalment of the omega!Bond series - being one of my most liked fics ever in the fandom.

Aside note: in 2017 started my descent into the garbage fire that was Gotham (my beloved) and I've been steadily writing for this fandom for years and none of what I think are my best Gotham fics - my best fics in general, actually - ever made it to the top 5 😱

~

2018

Superbat won hands-down that year, what can I say? Not to toot my own horn but I did write some bangers.

*peach emoji* (DCU, Superbat) is all about Bruce's ass - enough said, right?

~

2019

Superbat kept winning 😮‍💨 Whipped (DCU, Superbat) is there for you if you want to have a laugh.

~

2020

My Bond fics showed up (I did participate again in the 007 Fest after many years of absence so, that probably helped)! Alas, as the rare pair gremlin that I am, Everything They Said (DCU, Superwonderbat) came to eat - if you're in the mood for some delicious Trinity angst, all in Bruce's head, you're definitely going to enjoy the fic!

~

2021

Daniel Craig bowed out of the franchise with a movie I absolutely, 💯% despised and if your liking of Unfixable (James Bond, 00q) shows anything, is that a lot of you hated it too 👼🏽

Honourable mention to Between Us, In The Dark (WWDITS, Nandermo) - I wrote like.. 4 fics for this fandom and still one of them made it to the top 5!

~

2022

Finally, some of my Gotham fics got to the top 5! And they're not as good as some real fucking bangers I wrote hahaha

Dancing in Circles (James Bond, 00q) got top spot and with a good reason: old geezers in love, dancing circles around one another? They will pine for forever, sign me up.

~

2023

You can pry my rare pairs from my cold, dead hands 😮‍💨 Three of Cups (DCU, Superwonderbat) is the soft Trinity smut we all deserve.

~

2024

Listen, it was a bad writing year: writer's block has been kicking my ass to hell and back relentlessly.

But you know what? I still write some damn good superbat smut! Fire on Fire (DCU, Superbat) is filthy and loving and a take on alpha/alpha relationships I don't see much of!

I hope you had as much fun reading this little review as I did discovering all of this! 🤩

[suchfreshcabbage]

Hello again!!

Hi! I used to have this blog years ago. I post fics under the same name on AO3. It's been years, and I've grown as a writer since, but I've largely been offline and out of touch with the Silmarillion fandom. I do not remember the who's-who or what the current tag conventions are, so forgive me!

I only write nsfw content on this account. All of it, here, is very "dead dove do not eat." I put the lighter stuff mainly into my poetry posts (separate platform, sorry!). Under this account, though, I write fandom, and my content is a bit more trigger-warning in relevance. I will give fair warning of that. This is not for everyone and I understand why. I have my own personal history and perspective on my subject matter, but need not discuss it at this time. I may discuss it at another. I enjoy using my trauma as aid to my storytelling, and my storytelling as an outlet.

My primary Archive of Our Own works are:

(Again, they're old! Don't judge me! This is for if your recognize the titles!)

"Banquet": 2018. Maedhros x Sauron. One chapter. Dinner table. Content is not a pleasant interaction.

"Unfavorable Encounters." 2018-2024. Maedhros x Sauron and other creatures of Angband. Two chapters so far- a troll and a tentacle-thing. The title should imply some content. Work in progress. Several more chapters on the way.

"Ash and Change." 2018. Maedhros copes with a post-Angband outlook on life. Depictions of trauma and PTSD in sexuality. One chapter.

"My King." 2019. Maedhros x Fingon. A Russingon ship fic, from the older days of the Silmarillion fandom.

I do not think I can return wholly to the fandom or tumblr as a daily occurrence. However, I have continued to write and do wish I could publish and share it. I do not know if this content still has an audience in the Silmarillion fandom. Do forgive me if I mis-tag my work or courtesy here.

If there is audience still, I will continue to publish.

I have drafts of a Melkor/Mairon x Maigon fic.

I have considered a Thuringwethil x Elven Women fic, styled after the concept of Dracula's brides

I do have plans to continue posting in-Angband Maedhros x Sauron. Many people suggested to me "werewolf" from years ago and I have not finished it yet, but will.

Thank you! Please feel free to send me feedback or suggestions. I look forward to hearing from everyone!

[kalinara]

Hello! New to the X-men fandom, drawn here by Scott Summers (I love your blog so much!) Two questions, if you don't mind:

1. What would you consider essential reads for Scott specifically? There are so many starting points it seems.

2. I did finish Whedon's run of Astonishing X-Men (at the recommendation of reddit) and was wondering if Scott (now?) doesn't need his ruby quartz glasses/visor? Sorry if that's a run-specific question!

Hello!

The first question is surprisingly difficult, only because Scott's such a staple throughout the entirety of the X-Men. So let me kind of give you a run down of your options.

--

The 60s comics are really fun, if you want to see where things began. It is very 60s though, and the style may not be to your taste. There's also some period sexism that's not great (though surprisingly less than I expected. Possibly because Jean's meant to be a fairly liberated teen, as opposed to older ladies like Sue Storm or Janet Van Dyne.)

The Claremont Era (Starting with Giant-Sized X-Men, which introduces staples like Storm and Wolverine) is probably what will be the most familiar to folks who became used to the X-Men from other sources, like the cartoons. The Animated Series and X-Men '97 adapt a lot of Claremont era stuff, so it'll be pretty familiar.

It's also soapy and dramatic, and Scott (and Jean) feature very heavily. You'll also meet Rachel. Rachel is fun.

X-Factor's first run is something I'd recommend only after you've gotten into the character more. It's actually really good, IMO, and an amazing deconstruction of how much of a trainwreck the poor guy actually is. It's not always a flattering portrayal though, which is part of what makes it interesting. (It is good though to read the Madelyne stuff for yourself eventually, summaries tend to ignore the aspects that make Scott's side of things a bit more understandable, if not sympathetic.) Baby Cable is here too.

The 90s X-Comics are pretty fun too, like the earlier Claremont era, this is likely what folk are familiar with if they remember the cartoons. Costumes, characters, and so on. Scott is one of a very large cast, but he tends to have some really good arcs here and there. The art takes getting used to it. This is where you'll start seeing adult Cable as a major character. And another AU Summers child, Nate Grey. He's complicated.

the 2000s-2011 era of Comics have a lot of upheaval and events. Scott is still an idealist, but he's been jaded by a lot of events (and will be jaded by more). You'll see him get darker here, but not evil. It's pretty sad though. SO MANY big events though, Scott pulls off a lot of wild shit.

In 2011-2016, we have two Scotts basically. Avengers vs. X-Men is a massively huge event that changes Scott's role for a long time. For our main Scott, the next few years are going to read a lot like whump fic. He's going to suffer, people are going to blame him (unfairly, imo!) for a lot of things, and he'll be treated like a monster at times. That said, there are people who do see the truth and end up even joining him.

But also around this time, through shenanigans (read: Hank McCoy), the timeline is disrupted and the 1960s era Original Five (specifically circa issue #8) are brought to the future. They have their own adventures in lines like All-New X-Men (v1. and v2.), X-Men Blue, and Scott specifically has a solo series early on and then joins up with Kamala Khan's Champions and it's darling.

Eventually older Scott "dies" (it happens in comics). Young Scott continues though. When Young Scott goes to the past again, older Scott comes back (unrelated reasons).

For 2019-2020, there's a short run by Matthew Rosenberg, starting at issue 11 or so. The original team of X-Men is presumed dead (really they're dealing with some multiversal nonsense. Possibly Nate Grey's fault), and a returned Scott starts gathering new X-Men. It's intense, angsty and kind of bleak. This isn't about saving the world anymore, just maybe going out doing what they should.

From 2020-2023, we get a massive, amazing change in direction called the Krakoa arc. Scott's not featured as prominently here (It's Xavier's show), but he's solid in any series that he appears (Adjectiveless X-Men will always have him somewhere. He's very prominent in Teen Cable's book too.) Krakoa is something very different than anything the X-Men series(es) have done before and it's definitely worth reading. Though for my own taste, I like the return to form that comes with...

Our current era is "From the Ashes" and it's not actually a bad place to jump on. Everyone's a little scattered and out of sorts since the fall of Krakoa, but Scott, being who he is, has already pulled his own book together for the kind of mutant-rescuing heroics that he is wont to do.

As to where to start? Honestly, I'd go with whatever seems the most fun to you. Eventually, I think, you'll find yourself branching out and it won't be nearly so confusing. (There are also wikis, podcasts, and annoying pedants like me who like explaining everything.). Fans will often have their favorite special books (Children of the Atom, for example, is probably my favorite version of the O5 origin. It came out in 2001 and has a truly horrifying Jack Winters), and we'll always leap on the opportunity to share those things.

-------------------------------------------

as for 2. I don't know if you read the Giant-Sized finale of Astonishing X-Men, but they do have a scene where Scott's eyes start glowing again and Emma places the visor on him. It's a nice, quietly somber scene.

In current X-continuity, Scott does still need the visor. The inability to control his blasts may have a psychological component but there's also physical brain damage. (In the Krakoa arc, there are mechanisms where he might have repaired said damage, but it actually does come up at some point, and he specifically chooses not to. I hope I can find that page again, because I feel like there's a lot of interesting potential meta in that choice.)

I don't think they ever really revisit why Emma (or Cassandra, possibly) had been able to neutralize Scott's blasts/restore temporary control over them, but I tend to go with the interpretation that a powerful enough telepath could force a bypass with his powers, but it's an incredibly traumatic, potentially damaging, and ultimately temporary solution. Hence, what we see.

For her part, Jean Grey (at least in the modern era) is able to psychically block his powers. And that's always fun. (And sometimes a little kinky!)

[duplicitywrites]

The anon that sent the ask about fandom being intimidating for so long, but finally feeling comfortable enough to contribute to it- I want you to know that for a brief moment I thought ‘wait…did I send this..’ because down to the feeling of being intimidated by authors I have felt EVERYTHING they detailed. The only thing that made me realise I hadn’t sent an ask randomly without conscious knowledge was them saying they’ve been reading your work since 2020. I’ve been reading since the professor fic in 2019. Man. What would professor Harry and Tom think if they met godless horny nerd Tom and his Harry-san. would their relationship be permanently damaged by what they could’ve been lmao

Anyway. HARD retweet on everything they said, and thank you for having been always so welcoming in tomarry spaces and so creative and utterly dedicated to creating fandom spaces too, with the discord servers and everything. Tomarry, at least since I started reading it initially as a joke in 2019 in an attempt to avoid studying for my mid terms ( look at me now. ), was never a dead or slow fandom by any means, but it has been such a pleasure to watch it grow and trap more hapless people in it- and you’ve definitely played a not small part in that fortuitous scheme. So thank you. For existing and stuff. Yada yada.

not to make fun of you guys cause i say this with all the love in my heart but reading this ask is like, i'm seeing everyone just sitting in opposite corners of a room by themselves thinking "oh no i'm all alone" fshjfdjhk glad you found some kinship in here! but also

anyway.

you saying 2019 made me realize it's already been more than five years oops LOL but omg the professor fic is such a throwback, i miss those two idiots haha

semi-related but i was actually saying the other day to @thegreenmagician that i originally had another instalment in mind for them. it was of tom getting kidnapped because someone uncovered his secret identity, followed by harry + sirius going buddy cop style to rescue him (all the while tom is like "i'm bored when is my husband gonna show up"). maybe someday.

but ngl if any version of tom/harry/vee in any fic ever met godless horny nerd tom their brains would melt. harry-san is the most powerful harry in the multiverse just because he's the only one who can handle him lmao

lastly let me just say I WISH I HAD MORE TIME TO DEDICATE TO FANDOM. earning a living is fucking boring 😭for the past several months due to unfortunate circumstances my job has turned into almost full-time customer service rep work and it's killing me slowly inside like i left retail for an office job but the customers found me anyway 😭 but hoping and praying to move away from that not... soon... but it's in the works 😭

i don't know if you ever joined my discord server or TROR but we used to do these huge fun events almost seasonally and i miss it so much 😥

anyway x2 thank you for dropping by 💕 you are all so nice and i so appreciate this, it is really special to hear that i've made a such difference!!

[frozenwolftemplar]

Flash Fiction Friday 4/11

This one just flowed. Thanks and kudos to @flashfictionfridayofficial for the prompt (and the extra thousand words 😊)!

Fandom: Carmen Sandiego 2019

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,760

Growing up, Suhara's world was brown.

The houses, the storefronts, the dusty streets, all one or another shade of dispirited, lowly, tedious beige. Like his life would be if it weren't for The Boys, the ones he snuck out to run with when he was supposed to be "applying himself" in the shadow of his brother, the most beige thing of them all.

True, more often than not trouble followed their games, and yeah, he'd come home to yet another pedantic lecture from Hideo, but it was worth it; life needed color, and whizzing past pedestrians on the sole bicycle among them (he never could remember whose) or pelting windows with pebbles to draw the flammable ire of a shopkeeper or sneaking candies into pockets that were devoid of the yen to pay for them splashed some into his.

Just like the flowers.

The flowers! All these years later he can still see them, still smell their glorious perfume. They sprouted, sparse but there, in the window-box of a dowager down the road, one who hated him because she hated all The Boys and would not hesitate to strike him if she caught him loitering.

But she was old and slow, and he was near impossible to catch (The Boys had started asking him to pocket the candies for them; it was an honor he wore proudly). Even if he wasn't though, he'd still have chanced it for a glimpse of the flowers.

They were beautiful.

No matter the time of year, there was always something blooming and bringing color, brighter than any he'd known to his world. At the first whispers of spring, little yellow fluffy things that smiled shyly up at the clearing sky and giggled at the breeze ruffling their petals. The snake gourds followed, determined to enchant with their white, spidery blooms despite their unfortunate name; he remembered sneaking out a night under Hideo's unsuspecting nose (he really was good) to watch them open under the moon until their season closed. The Odorikos danced then, exquisite purple-pink petals light and carefree in breezes that held a promise of summer, and then a litany of others whose names he didn't know colored the rest of those long, dusty days.

Most beautiful of all, though, was in the winter. When the rest of the world was cold and listless and dead, and even the sun stopped caring, the camellia bloomed.

The windowbox was not its home, but rather a small patch of ground, guarded from the street by a low ankle-high wall. For most of the year it passed notice, but every winter, with the constancy of the sunrise, the dark green leaves became interspersed with flowers that put all the others to shame.

Large and showy and bright scarlet, they blazed against the defeated browns of winter and seemed to cause the sun to linger a little longer in the sky. All winter they bloomed, when the world seemed to need them most, not retiring until that first whisper of spring came again.

It was beautiful, in a way that not even The Boys' approving grins as he handed out the candies he swiped could match.

He was not an imaginative child, but standing there, shivering in Hideo's hand-me-down coat, he wondered what it'd be like to live surrounded by them.

To make a home where the flowers grew.

---------

"Hideo?"

"Hmm?"

"Can we get some flowers?"

"What?"

"Flowers. You know, like that house down the street."

"Seriously, Suhara? I just finished paying for your school clothes-"

"Ugh."

"Hmph. You could at least show a little gratitude."

He showed it all right; showed it by slamming the door on his way out.

---------

The world was black.

The alleys at night were black; the sky behind the city lights was black; the smiles of The Men (because that's what they all were now; men) were black even as their eyes glinted with pleasure at watches and wallets and fat rolls of yen, more than his boyhood self had thought were in existence in all the world; and Suhara's soul was black.

There were no flowers in this world; the dowager had died, the lady who moved in saw the world as beige, the camellia had been uprooted one dark, dark day long ago, brilliant red blooms falling lifeless to the street, where they were trampled by uncaring feet. The world did not want them.

But Suhara did not care, for he did not need them, like he did not need Hideo (never mind the pang at his name). He was fast on his way to becoming a Someone.

For his skill had grown with him. When he wanted to be (and he often did), he was invisible as air, disappearing into the night like a shadow sliding out from beneath a streetlamp's prying glow. He could not remember the last time someone caught him pickpocketing their coat, emptying their shelves into pockets weighed down with the fat rolls of yen (why should he pay? The world owed him), slipping a watch from a wrist or a ring from a finger.

Or saw him looming behind them with upraised sword.

He had no need for flowers now, their colors or the heady sweetness of their perfume. The world was black, and it was his.

(and if, some nights, sitting alone because The Men were leery of their assassin even as they praised him, his thoughts drifted to here the flowers grew, he never let on).

----------

"Have you considered attending vocational school?"

Suhara scoffed, turning his attention back to his sword. "No." He bit off the word, letting his voice be as sharp as the blade he was honing.

He frowned, letting the whetstone scraping along his katana speak to his irritation. Who did this man think he was, coming into the Yakuza den and making conversation with him like he was some stupid spectacle-wearing scholar (like he was Hideo)

His reputation was rising; he was charging more and more for his hits; soon he would be almost the richest man in this corner of the streets. Why would he want to give that up for school?

The man canted his head to a side, smiling strangely. Suhara focused harder on his task; the smile…unsettled him, in a way he couldn't explain.

He hated being unsettled.

"At least hear me out; I'd hate to see such… potential go to waste."

The whetstone stilled.

He left Japan with the recruiter that night.

Because the man had described the tropical island school, and Suhara saw flowers.

----------

He was right; the Island was full of flowers. Big, shouting, showy ones he couldn't name but who demanded attention the way a child who just learned a 'clever' trick does (not that he had ever been successful).

They suited him, like his new profession as assassin of VILE, and he walked with pride among them.

It wasn't exactly as he'd imagined as a boy, true. The colors too sharp, the perfumes too saccharine, the pleasures…

He did not know, just…different than he'd expected.

And there were no camellias.

But this was the path he chose, the world he'd embraced; and he was Shadowsan now, the Somebody he'd long strove to be; why would he forsake that for the old boyhood garden? These flowers…would suffice.

Even though, for all their colors, the world was blacker than ever.

-------------

"What am I supposed to do with it?"

"Hey." Brunt chuckled dryly at him as he stared, baffled at the wailing Black Sheep she'd just dumped in his arms, then sauntered out of the Faculty lounge. "Shoulda thought of that when you brought her here."

Alone, Shadowsan stared at the girl he, for reasons he still didn't understand, brought to the Island. Her face was red and streaked with tears, and the piercing cry that had been needling him for the past hours was slowly growing hoarse as she continued to wail and scream for he-had-no-idea-what.

(But probably the father he'd been sent to kill.)

Setting aside the pang of guilt (…he'd forgotten what that felt like), he lifted her to rest on her shoulder; that…did not help. "Shh," he tried, awkwardly, wincing as she screamed right in his ear. "It- you will be alright."

She did not stop, but the screams dwindled to a whimper as she laid her head on his shoulder, clearly tired, gripping his shirt tightly in a grubby fist.

Like she really believed him.

"You will be alright."

This time, the words were sure.

----------

Shadowsan's world was gray.

But not the gray of a looming thunderhead, or the gray of a discontented sea; a comfortable gray, one of well-worn blankets whose warmth came from the memories woven by Life in their fibers and sighing twilight after a day of good, honest work.

(funny; he used to spurn that)

The gray of the San Diego neighborhood the warehouse was in. Not a pretty shade; their corner of the city was an industrial one, as old, almost, as the departed dowager. The buildings were old and crumbling and sorely in need of…a great deal of work, the streets were in a similar state, and even the park down the block seemed to be forsaken by nature, all dirt and dead grass and a few trees that were on the cusp of giving up.

And it was often in the papers for the wrong reasons.

But he'd never felt more at home, because-

"Looks good, don't you think?"

Coming out of his thoughts, he looked over at Carmen, seated next to him on a park bench (one of the new ones). She tilted her head at the nearby playground, brighter, safer, more hopeful version of the decrepit one it replaced, courtesy of the anonymous benefactor seated beside him. Kids swarmed over it, shrieking happily as they slid down the slides, scrambled over the rope ladders, and competed to see who could go higher on the swings, still too new to know rust. Off to a side, a patch of older kids was gathered on a freshly-paved basketball court, hearty THUNKS! erupting from the backboard of the hoop as a pickup game got underway, Ivy and Zach spearheading the effort and serving as very enthusiastic coaches.

He grinned back, taking his eyes from the idyll before him to meet her gray ones and let her see the pride, more real and golden than any he knew, filling his own. "Yes, it very much does."

Because he'd always wanted to live where the Flowers grew.

(A/N: I'll be adding this to the collection on Ao3, so y'all can watch for it there, too!)

[lovewillthaw-j]

Frozen II big screen re-watch (part 1)

I had the privilege of watching Frozen II today on the big screen. I'm on a short trip to another state and for some reason, the cinemas there are doing a re run of F2. Boy, was it an emotional trip for me! I felt like I relived 5 years! I last watched F2 on the big screen in 2019 (pre-pandemic). F2 caused me to join Tumblr in Jan 2020 and it's my first ever Fandom.

F2 is definitely much better when you watch it on a big screen. The experience is just so much better. 1) the animation looks so good bigger. You can see micro expressions in the character's faces. The special effects are awesome. 2) the audio experience is so much better with good speakers with bass and surround sound. Both of these make it easier to not focus on the plot flaws.

I teared and teared throughout the show. You must understand, although my blog is quiet now, I was madly in love with F2 in the first year of my blog. Besides making hundreds of gifs, I also wrote essays on locations, the plot, the themes in F2, Elsa's powers, Anna's love, etc. I'm also a musician and the songs and score mean so much to me. I recorded myself playing the piano and guitar to Elsa, Anna, Iduna singing, analyzed musical motifs, made some discoveries of my own (Hansorcery most importantly), made a cappella versions of songs and some humorous mashups.

It was really a trip down memory lane today. I reminisced over scenes that I have giffed. Giffing is a process that makes you really familiar with the scenes as you go over it multiple times till the crop, timing and colour is just right. I was a noob when I first started, and I learnt along the way with help from friendly fans here. I was reminded of those scenes that took my breath away, scenes that made my heart go "awwww", scenes which are funny, scenes which have been focal points of my analyses. I remembered my boobs analyses (lol about how I ogled them for research), Elsa's see through back of travel gown, tender sister moments, cute Bruni gifs, beautiful scenes of the girls, my transition gifs of Elsa riding on Nokk, raw animation, and the list goes on.

I remembered all the music, music which I listened to countless times till I dreamt the music in my sleep (I kid you not, this is a thing that happens to me). I remembered my hair standing during the creepy scenes - the ship scene (on my very first watch I was so worried they were going to reveal the dead bodies of the parents😱) and Olaf dying scene (the 6 notes motif is sooooo creepy you know something bad is going to happen). I felt the power of the fight scenes between Elsa and Gale and Elsa and Bruni and Elsa and Nokk, and Anna vs the giants. I teared at the tender sister scenes in the bedroom and outside the ship. And I teared when Elsa gloriously outran the flood and stopped it with her mighty wall of ice.

I was enthralled by the songs once again. Especially the big three songs. Into the unknown, especially when Elsa steps into the magical forest created by her magic. Show yourself is all about Elsa, Elsa is sooooo gorgeous in that entire song, from her tied back pony tail look to her hair down look to her dress transformation. And for The Next Right Thing I felt how crushed Anna was and how Kristen Bell cried for real in the song as she recorded it. I teared as Olaf died in her arms and that was the moment Anna realized Elsa was dead too.

(I have more to write)

[authorchariot]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ where wild things used to roam

rating: explicit ❤️

fandom: star wars sequel trilogy (2015-2019)

pairing: poe dameron x ftm!reader x dj

word count: 10k+

content warning(s): none

tags: cum swallowing, dom/sub undertones, double penetration, double vaginal penetration, established relationship, eventual smut, face-fucking, facials, fingering, fluff, not beta read, oral sex, pov second person, praise kink, rough oral sex, spanking, threesome, trans character, trans male character, unsafe sex, vaginal sex

summary: ten years ago, you left the chaos of slicing and smuggling behind for a steadier life — and a steadier love — with poe dameron. but when an old flame hacks back into your life, stirring up memories of the person you used to be, you're forced to choose; cling to the peace you've built or chase a dangerous spark you thought you'd outgrown. or maybe, just maybe, there's a third option… if poe says yes.

read on ao3 or keep reading here ↓

The Resistance base hums with life around you; the low thrum of engines in the hangars, the occasional bark of orders through comms and the more comforting background of tools clanking against starship hulls. You're tucked away at your workstation, a mess of wires and data-pads spread out before you, half-listening to the chatter of fellow techs and half-lost in your own thoughts.

It's been nearly ten years now. Ten years of steady ground under your feet. Ten years with Poe.

You still can't quite believe it sometimes; how someone like him, with his lopsided grin and his heart like a twin sun, ever found you. You, a former slicer, running jobs for anyone with the credits, living in the shadows with thieves and traitors, never dreaming of a life that wasn't scraping by on the edge of legality. But Poe had seen you — really seen you — for more than the sharp fingers and the fast mouth and the broken past.

He'd pulled you into the light. Given you a home, a family, a future.

You smile as you work, thinking about dinner last night; Poe laughing around a mouthful of stew, reaching across the table to wipe sauce from your chin, pressing kisses into your neck until you were breathless and tugging him toward the bedroom. The warmth of his body wrapped around yours after, the way he murmured your name like a prayer even in his sleep.

You miss him today. He's off-world, leading a recon mission. You've gotten used to it — the nights apart, the worry gnawing at your ribs — but it never gets easier. You keep busy. You stay strong. He's counting on you to be here when he comes home.

You're halfway through calibrating a nav unit when your comm buzzes. Frowning, you wipe your hands on your pants and pick it up. No name. No encryption marker. Just a blinking incoming message warning.

Your heart stutters. Only a handful of people would know how to bypass Resistance protocols to reach you directly. And most of them are long gone; dead or dust in some forgotten corner of the galaxy. Still, curiosity wins out. You open the message.

[INSECURE] 🔓 — UNAUTHORISED CONTACT/MSG/ :: Hey, handsome. What you up to these days?

You hesitate for a moment. They will've known who they were getting through to if they managed to reach your comm directly so it has to be someone you know. Or someone you knew. You slowly type out a reply.

> YOU: Who is this?

The screen of your comm lights up with another message; a picture. It's definitely you (albeit younger) and you're laughing, probably in a bar somewhere. And there, with his arm wrapped around your shoulders...

/MSG/ :: Come on now, you don't forget a face (or a body) that fast. ;-)

You swallow hard, hesitantly typing and sending another message.

> YOU: DJ. /MSG/ :: There he is. /MSG/ :: You still hot as Hell?

Yeah, it's DJ. Still the same. You can practically hear the stutter in his voice as you read the messages. That stutter you used to find so endearing, especially when it was whispered in your ear or muffled against your neck... You shake off the feeling and type back.

> YOU: What do you want? And why're you just popping up out of the aether, after all this time? /MSG/ :: Could ask you the same thing, wildcat. /MSG/ :: I'm in the area. Thought I'd look you up. Catch up on old times.

Oh, no. 'Catch up on old times.' Is that what he's calling it now? It used to be 'a quick drink to celebrate' after a job or 'sharing a hotel room' because you didn't have the credits. Now it's 'catching up on old times'. Yeah, it's the same old DJ.

Slowly, you type out a reply, already dreading the response.

> YOU: And what would we do if we did 'catch up'? /MSG/ :: Well, that depends. /MSG/ :: Would you still wanna knock boots like old times? ;-) > YOU: Can't.

You send the message almost instantly. You can't. You're different now. You grew up. No more drinking yourself blackout drunk, no more hacking vending machines for free snacks and definitely no more sleeping around and taking back-shots in cantina bathrooms.

You're settled. You're happy. You have a stable job, a cozy apartment-pod and, above all else, a wonderful, gorgeous husband who'd tear the universe apart for you. You can't let all of that go.

/MSG/ :: Can't or won't? > YOU: Married.

He doesn't reply for a long while and it almost upsets you. You haven't seen DJ in so long but, knowing him, you give him an inch and he'll take a mile. You have to be firm with him.

/MSG/ :: Congrats. /MSG/ :: Does he treat you right?

It sends an odd warmth through you. DJ did have his moments, though they were few and far between, when he let himself seem even a little affectionate. Usually, it was the whole rebel without a cause schtick but, occasionally, he let the mask slip. Maybe he's gotten a little soft, after all these years.

> YOU: Yeah but I don't think you'd like him. /MSG/ :: Oh? /MSG/ :: Why's that, wildcat? /MSG/ :: Is he boring? Prude? > YOU: He's not boring or a prude. He's just very strong-willed. > YOU: And he doesn't take shit. I know you like an easy target. /MSG/ :: Strong-willed, huh? Sounds like a bit of a control-freak. /MSG/ :: Bet he doesn't even let you have fun anymore.

You pause again. He makes it sound like Poe's breathing down your neck every minute of every day. Nothing could be further from the truth. You have your own social lives outside of each other, your own hobbies. But, for some stupid reason, DJ's words put you on the defensive.

> YOU: Fun? Like what? /MSG/ :: The kinda fun we used to have. /MSG/ :: Drinking 'til dawn, dancing on tables, fucking strangers in bathroom stalls.

That's fun?

Truth be told, a few years ago that might've sounded like a great Friday night, post-gig. But now? Now it seems like a whole lot of hassle that wouldn't get you anything apart from a stomach pump and probably some horrible STI. Reading the message, you feel like you can still taste the cheap, silty alcohol on your tongue. The stuff that felt like barbed wire going down and felt even worse coming back up a few hours later.

You much prefer the life you live now; cooking up something nice for when Poe and BB-8 get home, eat and watch some tele-dramas and then snuggle up. It's peaceful, warm, healing. It makes you forget all those mornings you woke up on barroom floors with some random guy's comm-hook scribbled on your arm. It's better this way.

> YOU: I'm not really that person anymore, DJ. I grew up. /MSG/ :: Grew up or grew boring?

He shoots back. Ouch.

/MSG/ :: I remember a time when you weren't afraid of a good time. /MSG/ :: Now it sounds like you're just a little wifey, following orders and playing house.

You realise it was probably his intention from the get-go but he's pissed you off now.

He always knew just how to do that; which buttons to press and in what order to get the desired effect.

> YOU: What do you want? Did you just message me, after nearly a decade, wanting to sex? /MSG/ :: What? You turn into a saint or something? > YOU: I'm still fun! /MSG/ :: So what's your idea of fun these days? /MSG/ :: Baking cookies and watching tele-dramas with the hubby?

Your brow furrows before you hesitate. Damn, that really does sound like fun now. Maybe you really did get boring...

> YOU: He's a good guy. /MSG/ :: Sure.

He doesn't sound — or read — convinced.

/MSG/ :: Does he make you feel alive, wildcat? Or is he just comfortable?

That crawls under your skin. You married Poe Dameron, for God's sake. One of the best pilots in history? Heartthrob of the entire Resistance? The love of your life? He's comfortable, of course, but he's amazing, funny and gorgeous to boot.

> YOU: What do you want me to tell you? He's noble, he's sweet, he's absolutely dynamite in the sack and he loves me. What more could I ask for? /MSG/ :: Damn. Sounds like a dream. /MSG/ :: And you're happy with that? Being domesticated? > YOU: In what way? /MSG/ :: In every way. /MSG/ :: Settling down, giving up your freedom, fucking one guy for the rest of your life?

You have to be blunt with him. Because you know what he's angling for and, yeah, sure, DJ was good in bed. Granted; it was usually drunk fumbles in the dark but he was good. Rougher.

He used to bite, used to take great pleasure in getting you all marked up for him, used to pin you up against walls and kiss you until you were dizzy. It was disorienting and amazing. He was good with his hands. And his mouth. And he was big too. He was good, yes, but that's still not worth risking the entire life you've built with Poe. Especially when Poe's just as good but in a different way; caring, sweet, loving. It's a different kind of intense, one that makes your chest ache just thinking about it.

> YOU: I'm not cheating on him. /MSG/ :: Didn't ask if you would. Just asked if you're happy with the idea of never being with anyone else again. /MSG/ :: Because I remember a time when the thought of being tied down like that would've driven you crazy.

You can't carry on with this line of questioning.

> YOU: How long are you sticking around? /MSG/ :: A few days. Just passing through on my way to a job. Why? > YOU: We could catch up. > YOU: But it can't go further than drinks. /MSG/ :: Understood. /MSG/ :: Just friends, catching up. /MSG/ :: You know, for someone who used to be the life of every party, you're suddenly full of rules. > YOU: What did you expect after this long. /MSG/ :: I don't know. /MSG/ :: But you're acting like you're on a leash. /MSG/ :: Is he the one making all the rules? > YOU: He's not controlling. I love him. /MSG/ :: Yeah. You said that.

You pause again for a moment because, yes, he has you second guessing yourself. Did you really just settle down and lose your entire personality because a guy put a ring on your finger? Surely not. That's not how that works, right?

But you're still on the defensive. Whatever he's planning, you can't give in. Shut down DJ first, have an existential crisis later.

> YOU: We can't get back together. > YOU: I know what you're trying to do, DJ. /MSG/ :: Who said anything about getting back together? /MSG/ :: I'm just trying to figure out if the person you used to be is still in there somewhere or if your hubby tamed you completely. > YOU: I'm still here. Just mellowed out. /MSG/ :: Mellowed or neutered? /MSG/ :: Do you even swear anymore. > YOU: Like a sailor. /MSG/ :: So you're telling me that, under all this domesticity, you're still the same dirty-mouthed, little punk?

There's a long pause and you glance around to make sure none of the other techs notice you slacking off a little as you type on your communicator.

/MSG/ :: You gonna tell me to fuck off if I ask if you miss it? Us?

Another long pause. Part of you does miss it; wild nights of partying, travelling from system to system, robbing rich bastards blind and taking joyrides in sleek, sexy star-ships? It was fun but...

> YOU: I miss it but it's different. > YOU: There's structure, here. It's stable. > YOU: I'm not worried about where my next meals coming from or where I'm sleeping for the night. > YOU: Or who's gonna plant a knife in my back next. > YOU: It's different /MSG/ :: I get it. You traded chaos for stability. I can see the appeal in that. /MSG/ :: But are you happy? Like genuinely happy? > YOU: I am. > YOU: I miss you though.

You sigh softly, the weakness seeping in, as you send that last message. DJ did care for you, once upon a time. Still, you can't really tell if he's asking you this because he actually gives a shit or if he's just trying to worm his way back into your life. You wouldn't put it past him. But there's still a little part of you that misses him; the way he used to grab your hand as you ran with pockets full of credits, the way he used to kiss you on the forehead and stutter out some stupid nickname, the way he used to promise you every star in the sky just after the next big score that never came. He did care once.

Suddenly, an idea...

> YOU: Okay so I have a hypothetical for you... /MSG/ :: Hit me. > YOU: I'll ask him and if (and this is a big if) he says yes, maybe we could have some fun? Together, I mean. Three of us. /MSG/ :: Are you serious right now? > YOU: I said if. /MSG/ :: Yeah, yeah, I know. /MSG/ :: So you gotta ask the hubby first? /MSG/ :: And if he says yes? > YOU: Whatever he says, I'll get back to you. > YOU: But if he says no, then that's it, okay? /MSG/ :: Deal.

You turn off your comm and place it down on your workbench, letting out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding.

The thought of being sandwiched between Poe and DJ is already getting you a little hot under the collar but the thought of asking Poe and him getting upset is tamping it down.

You've always been honest with him and, if you ask him this, lay your cards on the table, it's in his court and he can't, for a minute, say you've been hiding anything from him.

You'd never. He deserves better than that.

Now all there is to do is sit and wait...

A few hours later, you're sat on the couch in your apartment-pod, thinking about how to broach the subject with Poe. It might not be an easy chat but you're willing to ask him and, if he shuts it down, then that's it, you walk away. There's no shame in asking, right?

The doors slide open and the sudden sound makes you jump, your head snapping in the direction of the door. And there he is, flight-suit a little dirty with smears of engine oil, smelling of cologne and ozone. BB-8 rolls in behind him, rolling toward you with happy beeps. You pat his dome and stand up, walking toward Poe, as he closes the doors behind him.

"Hey, honey." You sigh, relieved by his presence, and he sets down his helmet and gloves, popping the collar of his flight-suit.

"Hey, baby." He's tired but he's happy to see you. He always is. You wander up and wrap your arms around his neck, pressing a slow, loving kiss to his lips.

"How was recon?" You ask and his arms find their way around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

"It was fine. Nothing crazy." He notices your demeanour, a little more uptight than usual, a little more quiet. "Everything alright?" He runs his knuckles along your cheek and you lean into the touch before tucking your face against his neck, savouring the feeling of his warm skin against your own.

"Mhm. Just thinking. Can I talk to you about something? It's not an emergency or anything." He pulls away slightly, concern etched onto his features. He nods and leads you over to the couch, waving BB-8 back to his charging station to give you both some privacy.

"What's on your mind, baby?" He sits beside you on the couch, his full attention focused on you. You fiddle with your hands in your lap, staring down at them.

"So I got a message out of the blue today from an old friend..." You start and Poe nods.

"Oh, yeah? Who was it?" He's clearly not trying to sound too interested but you know the way his brain works, how he doubts himself sometimes.

"Just an ex. We haven't talked in ages and he just popped up." You tell him and he tenses slightly. He loves you. He trusts you. But he still gets these little pangs of jealousy from time to time.

"Let me guess, he wanted to 'catch up'?" He asks and you look up at him, hoping that he can tell you're being open and genuine with him.

"He did and I said no." His expression softens, brows relaxing, as he reaches out to tuck a stray lock of hair out of your eyes. "But he's in the area and... I had an idea but it all depends on you. I don't want to put what we have at risk and, if you say no, I'll never ask again, okay?" You tell him and Poe nods slowly, pursing his lips slightly. You're not usually this serious so, whatever this is, he knows you aren't suggesting it lightly.

"What's the idea?"

"So hear me out. What if we met him, had a few drinks and, if we all got along, we could head back to a hotel and..." You trail off, hoping he can fill in the blanks. His eyes widen, considering. Still, the thought of putting your relation at risk tethers him to reality.

"And if things go south?" He asks.

"Then we call it quits, no questions asked, no hard feelings." He nods slowly, considering your words. The idea is definitely tempting but the stakes have the potential to be quite high. "Would you be okay with it? With someone touching me like that?" And Poe hesitates, possessiveness battling with curiosity. Finally, he speaks up.

"I think I could handle it."

"You could be as involved as little or as much as you want. If you just wanted to watch, that would be fine, but if you really wanted to join in, that would be fine too." His breath hitches slightly. He's never shared anyone like that before. The thought has crossed his mind a couple times, particularly when he's had just a little too much to drink, but now it's there and it's out in the open, hanging in the air between you, it feels closer, realer. You move closer and cup his face, turning him to face you fully. "Poe, you're my everything, okay? This is your decision. I told him, if you said no, I'd walk away. Because I married you." He leans into the touch, lifting his hand to rest over yours on his cheek.

"God, baby..." He whispers, kissing your palm. "You know how much that means to me, right? Giving this up just for me." You lean in to kiss him sweetly, needing him to know that his is all him, this is his call.

"Because one night of fun isn't worth giving up everything we have." You tell him and he gently pulls you into his lap, your weight grounding him, his hands resting on your hips.

"Alright. Let's say I agree. Let's say I'm okay with sharing you for the night. What're the rules?" He asks. He's right. There needs to be boundaries. Everything needs to be crystal clear so no-one comes out of this with regrets or hurt feelings.

"What rules would you want?" You ask in reply, absently playing with a rogue lock of his hair as you listen. He takes a moment to consider it.

"Rule one; no kissing on the mouth, unless it's me. Rule two; if any of us say stop, it stops right away, no questions asked." He says slowly and you nod. "Rule three; he doesn't get to finish inside you."

"Okay. But is finishing on me okay? Or in my mouth?" You ask and he considers for a moment. You swear you feel a twitch between your thighs as he blushes at the thought.

"Yeah... On your face, your chest; wherever you're comfortable with. And in your mouth is okay too, if you're okay with that." Running a hand through his dark locks, you nod.

"Okay, I'll message him back. How's tomorrow sound?"

"Tomorrow's fine." He says as you pull out your comm. "You gonna invite him over?" Instantly, you look up and shake your head.

"No, no. Hotel. I don't want him here. Feels too intimate." You tell him and Poe nods, relieved. He seems a little cautious but, if the bulge in his flight-suit and the light flush on his cheeks is anything to go by, he's a little excited too. You lace your fingers into his and squeeze reassuringly as you text with your free hand.

> YOU: Hey, DJ. Hubby's down with it. Got some rules though; no kissing on the mouth and no creampies. Got it? /MSG/ :: Got it. No making out, no baby batter. > YOU: :-) > YOU: We'll be at the Bantha Bones bar by 7 tomorrow. /MSG/ :: 7 @ Bantha Bones. See you there. ;-)

"All set?" Poe asks as you toss you comm onto the other side of the sofa. You give him your full attention, burying your nose in his hair as you kiss the crown of his head. He's still a little stiff but he's also absolutely turned on.

"All set. You sure you're okay with this?" You ask in response and he pulls back, giving you a warm smile, the type that makes your cheeks blush a pretty pink and sends a tingling sensation all throughout your body.

"I'm sure." He pecks you on the lips. "I trust you. Just promise me one thing?"

"Anything, hon."

"If, at any point, this stops feeling right or you get uncomfortable, you'll let me know." His eyes search yours, intense and earnest. "I don't care how many drinks you've had, how horny you are or how charming this guy might be." You squeeze his hand and nod.

"I promise. I'll tell you."

"Good."

The next day, you and Poe make your way to the Bantha Bones, the dim lighting and familiar din of conversation bringing you a strange kind of comfort. You're already feeling a little nervous; this is uncharted territory, even if it's with someone you know. Poe, ever the easy-going presence by your side, brushes your shoulder with his as he leads you through the crowd.

"Everything alright?" His voice is low, just for you. His thumb rubs the back of your hand. You nod.

"Yeah, just... Y'know."

"Hey, no pressure. If it gets weird, we walk. Simple as that." He reassures you, his tone so steady it calms the tightness in your chest.

You spot him almost immediately. DJ's slouched in a booth by the far wall, drink in hand, his eyes scanning the crowd as though he's still in the habit of looking over his shoulder. His greying, tousled hair and the stubble along his jaw make him look even more like the man you remember; though, a little older now, a little sharper in his posture.

Poe gives you a nudge. "Go on. I'll grab us some drinks."

You glance at him, hesitation lingering in your gaze, but he's already heading to the bar, leaving you to make your way toward DJ. With each step, the old feelings — the ones you thought were buried — stir in your chest. When you reach him, DJ looks up, a wide grin spreading across his face.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my f-f-favourite wildcat." He teases, his voice familiar and rough. There's the stutter. You'd forgotten how much you liked it. And there's a twinkle in his eye, the same one that used to set your heart racing.

"Don't start." You warn teasingly, a grin tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"C'mon, sit down. I won't bite." He murmurs, setting his drink down before he peers up at you. "Not yet, anyway."

You settle in the booth opposite DJ, leaving space for Poe. "You look good." He says and just that little compliment brings heat to your cheeks. You hope he doesn't notice it in the low light. You've not flirted in years so this attention is unfamiliar though not unexpected not unwanted.

"Thanks. You look good too. You've aged a bit. But like...in a good way, y'know?" You stumble your way through the backhanded compliment and he grins.

"So've you. But you already looked a-amazing." He purrs, eyes straying down to take in your outfit. "Where's Hubby?" He asks and you nod in the way of the bar.

"Just grabbing us some drinks." DJ nods and glances over at the bar, where Poe grabs a couple drinks and slides a few credits on the counter.

"Mm. He let you come sit with me alone?" He asks, quirking a brow. "More trusting than I'd be in his situation." You turn your attention back to DJ and his stupid, smug face. The same one you'd gladly still have your lips all over.

"Okay but you didn't trust anyone and you were always incredibly jealous. It was kinda hot when I was younger but, dear God, you had some anger issues." You tell him and a deep chuckle rumbles through his chest, warming something low and deep in your body.

"Yeah, I was a real piece of w-w-work back then. But I've learned a thing or two since then and, I gotta say, it's kinda hot that he's okay with this." He says and you nod, turning your head back to look at Poe from across the room as he walks toward the booth, drinks in hand.

"Yeah... I'm lucky to have him."

Two drinks slide across the table before Poe settles in beside you. "Thanks, hon." You pull the drink toward you and take a long sip. It's not overly strong but there's a lot of it, enough to get the ball rolling, you're sure. "So, Poe, this is DJ. We used to run in a crew together. DJ, this is Poe, my husband."

"P-Pleasure to officially meet you." DJ extends his hand across the table, his grip confident as Poe grips it. When he settles back in his seat, Poe easily drapes his arm around the back of the booth in a protective, loving gesture that just seems so natural. It's nice.

After the introductions, the two seem to get along, finding common ground surprisingly quickly. They give old stories from their respective circles, most of them including you in one way or another. They try to keep you engaged but, as you slowly drain your drink, the rest of the bar seems to grow fuzzy and quiet and Poe's warmth at your side and DJ's low, stuttering purr light a fire in you that you struggle to tamp down. You rest your head on Poe's shoulder and get comfortable, propping your legs on the bench on DJ's side of the booth, just listening to them talk. DJ seems to have this magic ability to talk to people like he's known them years, even if it's only been an hour or so. It's disarming. One of the things you use to love about him.

Suddenly, you feel a rough hand on your calf, caressing you through your pants. Under the table, DJ has his hand around your leg, gently massaging the muscles there, easing the tension away, as he keeps chatting with Poe, who's too engrossed to notice the subtle contact. You stiffen slightly as the hand slides a little further up, biting your lip but not pulling away. He takes it as an invitation, his movements growing a little more noticeable. You sigh at the contact and wet your lips, tilting your head to look at Poe before reaching down to place a hand on his thigh. He pauses mid-sentence and places his hand over yours, looking down at you with a warm smile.

"Baby? You okay?" He asks, unaware that your legs are slowly being inched apart by DJ's curious fingers. The alcohol has a nice buzz running through your body. You've still got your wits about you but everything's bubbling up to the surface, particularly the thoughts of being sandwiched between these two men that have been plaguing you all day.

"Mhm. More than okay..." You tilt your head and press your lips to Poe's own, taking him by surprise, as you move your leg under the table, pressing the toe of your boot against DJ's zipper. Your hand on Poe's thigh slowly crawls upward until it rests on his crotch, earning yourself a groan against your lips. He's panting slightly when he finally pulls away. "You two seem to be getting along like a house on fire." You say and Poe's hand, rough with callouses, slides over your own, pressing your palm against the growing bulge there. You press your boot a little harder against DJ's zipper and a low growl rumbles through him.

"Yeah, he's alright." He murmurs in reply, voice a little huskier than before. "You seem distracted though."

"I won't lie; I'm getting a little antsy. Don't get me wrong, I love hearing you talk about cruisers and V38s but... It might be time to make a move?" You suggest and Poe's eyes dart up to DJ, who worries his lower lip between his teeth, clearly on-board with the idea.

"Lead the way." Poe says finally, picking up on the vibes.

"C'mon. Hotel's just around the corner."

With single-mindedness born of lust and a decent amount of booze, you lead the way to the hotel round the block. Both men follow suit, their movements almost predatory. The short walk to the hotel is tense with anticipation.

As you check in, Poe's hand rests possessively on the small of your back, while DJ's fingers brush against yours on the counter. Once you pick up the keycard, the path is simple; walk upstairs, get inside, lock the door. The room isn't anything to write home about; small and sparsely decorated, lit with tacky, red LEDs that cast stark shadows. The floor is worn and covered in scuff marks, a large bed situated in the centre of the room and a chair by a window with broken, lopsided blinds. It's clear nobody comes here for a pleasant, hospitable experience but that's not what you're here for either.

As soon as the door slides shut, Poe tucks himself against your back, his hands roaming along your sides. DJ's taller figure blocks the door, just watching hungrily.

"Now what?" Poe husks in your ear, his arousal clear, pressed against your backside. You step toward the bed and sit on the edge. That warm, fuzzy feeling still buzzes around in your body and you find yourself speaking before the words really process.

"I mean, I've just been thinking about being completely destroyed by you guys so like... I don't know... What do you guys wanna do?" You glance over at DJ, knowing he's more than willing to take the wheel and get this party started. His eyes darken as he steps forward, worn boots heavy on the floor. A large hand with nimble fingers grasps your chin firmly as he tilts your head back to look at him.

"You wanna be a g-good boy and do as we say?" His voice is a low growl, leaving no room for misinterpretation. You hum in approval and DJ releases you, taking a couple steps back to stand shoulder to shoulder with Poe. "Strip for us." You kick off your boots and stand, shrugging off your jacket and letting it fall to the floor. Poe's hands clench at his sides, struggling to stay still as he watches you. "Slowly." DJ adds, his voice hoarse. "Let us enjoy the view, hm?" Slowing your pace, you pull your shirt over your head along with your binder, leaving your upper half entirely bare. You reach down and unbuckle your belt, inching your pants down until they pool around your ankles and you can step out of them, leaving you in only your underwear. DJ reaches down and unashamedly squeezes the bulge in his pants. "Turn around. Bend over the b-bed." And you do as he tells you to, propping your hands on the mattress and leaning over, your backside only covered by the thin fabric of your underwear which is already damp at the gusset from your arousal.

You hear heavy steps as DJ moves behind you, placing a large hand on the small of your back, holding you in place. He leans over, his lips barely brushing the shell of your ear. "Such a good boy, doing exactly as you're told." Poe steps up too, not quite getting involved just yet, content in letting DJ take the lead for now. He drinks in the sight of you, unaware that you could be so obedient, that you would respond like this. A warm, familiar hand slides along your curves, fingertips ghosting along the waistband of your underwear.

"This wet already, baby?" Poe sighs airily. "Let's see." He hooks a finger into the waistband of your underwear and pulls it down. The sight earns a low groan from DJ and you whine as you feel slick dripping down your inner thighs, wet and warm.

"L-L-Look at this. You're absolutely soaked." One of DJ's hands moves to your backside, squeezing and kneading appreciatively. You lean into the touches, especially as Poe sinks two fingers inside you, friction nonexistent from how wet you are. DJ gives you a firm spank as Poe sets a slow, deep pace with his fingers, sliding them in and out, your toes curling against the floor. "You like that?" You let out another affirmative moan, pushing your hips back into those strong hands, which feel far more than two pairs. It feels like they're all over you, groping and squeezing and manhandling you in a way that feels all too good. DJ gives your rear another slap, watching it bounce slightly and letting out a husky chuckle. "Damn... You had him on his knees before, fly-boy? His mouth is to d-die for."

You whine as Poe's fingers slide from inside you, leaving you empty and wanting. "Don't worry, you'll get what you want, pussycat. But you gotta work for it first, mm?" DJ pulls you up from your position, bent over the mattress, as Poe grabs a pillow to cushion your knees as you're pushed to the floor. They stand over you, clearly hard in their pants. Poe seems to be at a bit of a loss. This side of you is unchartered territory and seeing DJ so easily guide you into such a submissive position has him reeling at what he's been missing out on. He's definitely learning a lot from the old slicer tonight.

DJ unbuckles his pants and inches down the zipper, pulling his cock free from his underwear and giving it a slow stroke. "Look at you. Forgot how c-c-cute you look on your knees, like that." He sighs and your mouth waters as precum beads at the slit. "You want this in your mouth, huh?" Your attention is drawn away from him as Poe unbuckles his pants and pushes them down his thighs, revealing his own erection. You wet your lips, eyes lidded as they flick between one cock to the other hungrily.

"Both of us?" Poe asks, his voice softer, more tentative.

"You'll have to take turns..." You manage and DJ chuckles lowly.

"Smart boy. Too big for you to take both at once." When you hesitate, Poe steps forward and runs his fingers through your hair. You peer up at him and he gives you a warm, encouraging smile, cutting through the haze of arousal that cloaks your vision.

"Start with me, baby. Nice and easy." You part your lips and take him in, his fingers resting lightly on the back of your hair. "That's it..." You sigh at the familiarity of your husband's cock sliding along your tongue. Your eyes drop shut as you focus on the weight of it, the pulsing heat in your mouth. He's leaking already as you draw him deep, licking and sucking all along the shaft, letting him guide your head, forward and back, in a familiar rhythm, your technique perfect from years of practice. "Holy shit..." Slow, long strokes, not too deep but just deep enough. Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see DJ slowly pumping at his cock, impatiently awaiting his turn. Poe's fingers tighten ever so slightly in your hair as droll drips down your chin, your mouth working him like a dream. "Fuck, baby..."

Suddenly, a large hand snarls into your hair as DJ decides he just can't take it anymore. Poe's dick slides from your mouth with a wet sound, your lips connected to the ruddy crown of his cock with a thin string of saliva.

"No wonder, f-fly-boy, here, can't get enough." He mutters, sliding himself past your lips. You have to stretch your mouth a little wider to take him in, your eyes rolling as he grips your hair. "Gotta be firm with you, wildcat. Might've forgotten all your skills..." He groans deeply, his hips moving to set a slow, deep pace which slowly picks up. "Goddamn, you still have the best mouth..." He grunts and Poe watches as your lips stretch wide around the slicer's dick, eager and desperate. DJ slides all the way in, pushing past your barrier, your nose buried in the thatch of thick, dark hair at the base. You gag slightly, a mix of saliva and pre bubbling around your mouth as you struggle to accommodate. He stays there for a moment before pulling out and letting you catch your breath. "Fuck, yeah..." You cough wetly, eyes pricking with tears, as Poe steps closer again.

"Come on, baby. Switch back to me." You do, sucking and tonguing at his cock messily, unashamed as drool oozes down your chin to pool on the floor. You moan as his fingers lightly tug at your hair, growing a little rougher, though only slightly, like he's anxious to try his hand at what DJ does. You bob your head eagerly, looking up at him as he bites his lip, murmuring soft praises under his breath. "You're so good, baby... Just like that... That's it..." You've never seen him like this before either; so hungry for you, so desperate. And then, for a moment, he stops. "Baby?"

"Mm...?" You manage, your lips still wrapped around his dick. He cards a hand through his thick, dark curls, cheeks flushed.

"Can I... Can I try a little harder?" He asks tentatively. "Like he does?" He jabs a thumb at DJ who grins wolfishly, his hand stroking at his cock, spreading the slick mix of pre and spit all over the shaft. You think for a moment before nodding slightly and Poe nods, gripping your hair firmly, mirroring DJ's earlier hold. "Open wider." He says and you obey without question, letting your jaw drop, and he pushes his hips forward, sliding his cock deep into your mouth, pressing against the barrier in your throat but not daring to go deeper. You gag slightly but stay obediently still. Poe takes up a steady rhythm, fucking your mouth just deep enough to make you take him into your throat just a little each time. As Poe uses your mouth, you reach up to wrap a hand around DJ's cock, pumping at the same pace as Poe's thrusts and earning yourself an appreciative, rumbling groan from the splicer.

"F-F-Fuck, yeah... Just like that..." He covers his hand with your own, guiding your strokes.

Eventually, you pull back, panting, your eyes watering.

"Don't...cum yet, okay?" You manage, your speech a little garbled after the rough treatment.

"Yeah, okay, baby." Poe manages between shaky breaths.

"You want a facial, huh?" DJ asks with a knowing grin and your cheeks flame. "N-Naughty boy. C'mon, over here." You lift your hand to wrap around Poe's dick, keeping your pace slow as not to overwhelm him just yet. Nimble fingers slip through your hair and curl tight as DJ establishes a quick, punishing rhythm, unafraid to push past your barrier and bury himself completely in your mouth. He gazes down at you, dark eyes glazed over with want. "F-F-Fuck... The amount of times I've jerked off to this thought... You're a little out of practice but... Damn, you're still p-perfect..." He rasps out as you gag and cough wetly around his cock, saliva dripping onto the floor in thin, glistening strings.

Finally, once tears are slipping down your cheeks and your lips are red and soaked with spit and pre, DJ pulls your head back. You let your eyes flutter shut, keeping your mouth open to receive whatever they give you. The slicer takes himself in hand as Poe does the same, groaning and the slick sound of skin on skin making you ache. Poe finishes first, painting the bridge of your nose and your forehead as he strokes your hair, mumbling about how sexy you look. DJ's load splashes heavily onto your cheeks and lips, the weight of it hot on your skin. Another stream of his arcs across your nose and coats your lashes as Poe leans in closer for a better angle, his last few spurts dropping onto your upper lip, making sure to get a little of it in your mouth. Some of it oozes down your neck and drips onto your chest, coating your skin in a slick, sloppy sheen.

When they finish, you wipe it out of your eyes and lick you lips, reaching any you can with your tongue and pulling it into your mouth. "F-Fuck, that's hot..." DJ manages between laboured breaths. "You really shoulda kept doing those porno holos. Would've made a fortune by now." He teases and you see Poe's eyes widen. He really is learning a lot today.

Eventually, you stagger to your feet and toss the pillow back on the bed, uncaring that it's splattered with saliva, cum and your own slick arousal. Poe's flagging now; his cock spent and in need of some recoup time, while DJ's still going strong. You wipe your face on the bedsheets, feeling energised yet still weighed down by the insatiable heat in your lower belly.

"How's...everyone feeling?" You manage, your voice weak and a little rough from having your throat pounded. DJ grins lazily.

"Feeling great." He purrs, squeezing the base of his dick, still hard, still leaking. Poe, on the other hand, looks dazed but satisfied, still trying to catch his breath.

"I'm good. Just...need a sec." He murmurs and you nod.

"Take a break, hon. Can we keep going?" You ask as Poe stumbles over to the chair by the window, dropping into it.

"Mhmm... You alright?" He asks, a hint of concern in his voice. You beam at him sweetly, already looking a dazed mess but glowing with excitement at how the night's gone so far.

"I'm having the time of my life." You reply and DJ chuckles.

"That's what we l-like to hear. Sure you can handle more, little wildcat?" He asks and you nod, watching Poe lean back, stretching his arms above his head and relaxing back into the chair to take a breather. DJ swaggers closer, ravenous eyes roaming your body, taking in the mess of cum and saliva on your neck and chest. "What's on your mind, handsome?"

"Getting a little needy..." You admit and his grin turns into a wolfish smile.

"Needy for what?"

"Y'know..." You part your knees a little, hoping he gets the hint. He does, lightly kicking your legs open and reaching down to press his fingers against your aching pussy. The ache feels tripled somehow as calloused fingers brush lightly over your swollen lower lips.

"You want me in here, huh?" He asks, as if there were any doubt. You whimper and nod quickly as he draws his thumb around your clit. "And what about fly-boy, over there? Does he get a turn or am I getting it all for myself?" You glance over at Poe, who's watching, still splayed out on the chair by the window.

"One solo round each and then one together? Sound okay?" You ask and Poe nods, giving you a thumbs-up, still trying to catch his breath, even as his cock starts to thicken again.

Laying back on the bed, you let your thighs fall open, setting your eyes back on the slicer looming over you. There's no shame here anymore. Everyone's on the same page and it feels so freeing. DJ grabs hold of your hips and hooks your legs over his shoulders before lining himself up, rubbing the head against your pussy.

"Alright, h-here I come." He pushes his hips forward slowly, groaning as he spreads you open. He's definitely bigger than you remember but not to an uncomfortable degree. There's this warm, pleasant stretch as he fills you, inching inside until he's fully seated, his pelvis flush against yours. The pace he sets is slow at first, his thick cock hitting all the right spots, making you whimper and moan.

"Ohhh, my God..." You whine out and he grins, wetting his lips, as he keeps a steady pace.

"So tight..." He mutters, fingers digging into the meat of your hips as he slowly increases the pace. "As good as you remember?"

"Better..." That pulls a soft laugh from him, one that you feel more than hear. He drops his gaze to where you're joined, watching his shaft disappear inside you with every long stroke. He's got the angle down just right, his hips slightly raised so he's grinding against that perfect spot inside you. "F-Fuck...! Oh, my God... DJ..."

"Mhmm..." He hums in approval as you squeeze down around him, picking up the pace a little more as you get used to the size of him again. "No wonder fly-boy put a ring on it. Forgot how good you felt..." You throw a weak but teasing smile up at him.

"As good as you remember?" You ask and his eyes roll slightly as he bottoms out again, filling you completely.

"B-Better..." He stutters out, his voice a low growl.

"Just remember... No cumming inside, yeah?" You remind him and he nods.

"Yeah; one round, no cream filling. Got it." He tosses you a sly wink before pulling back and pushing back in hard, making you whine at the stretch. God, he feels amazing, hitting all the right spots with this deep, searing pressure that makes your toes curl.

As his pace grows more and more punishing and your cries reach a fever pitch, he claps a hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds. "Shhh... You can take it." He tells you, laying into you with quick, deep thrusts. "Almost there..." And you can feel him pulsing deep inside you, his brows knitting in concentration. "Just a little more..." His strokes become shallower, more urgent, sweat beading on his brow as he fights to hold back his climax, needing to stay inside you as long as humanly possible, to keep this connection as long as he can.

Suddenly, he pauses. Bites his lip.

"DJ..." Your voice is a slight warning.

"Not yet, not yet..." He hisses through clenched teeth, eyes squeezed shut. The pressure's on as you notice Poe leaning forward in the chair, his cock at full mast again but his breath coming quick.

Don't break the rule. Don't break the rule, DJ...

With a strained grunt, he manages to pull out just in time, wrapping his fingers around the shaft and jerking in stiff movements until thick, hot ropes splatter across your stomach. "Fuck, fuck, fuck..." He gasps out, making sure to milk every last drop as Poe leans back, watching with a satisfied nod. It's warm on your belly, sticky and creamy as it clings to your skin.

DJ's careful to cradle your knees as he unhooks them from his shoulders, pressing little kisses to your inner thighs before stepping back. You sit up and press your lips to the head of his softening cock, licking away any stray drops and tasting yourself on his skin. He shudders at the sensation before he nods and tucks himself away in his pants, ruffling your hair affectionately. "Be right back. Don't go anywhere." DJ disappears into the ensuite and you turn your attention to Poe, who's taken the liberty of stripping down the rest of the way.

An adoring smile quirks at your lips as you get up on shaky legs and step over to him as he stands, back to full function now he's taken a breather.

"Your turn, big guy." You tell him as you wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. "Having fun?" He kisses you again hungrily, hands moving to grope your backside possessively.

"So much fun." He huffs against your lips, breaking the kiss to trail his mouth down your neck. Holding onto his shoulders, you tug him back toward the bed. "You're gorgeous right now, baby." He mutters, gently pushing you down onto the rumpled sheets.

"I'm a mess." You correct him playfully.

"Exactly." He climbs up onto the bed, hovering over you and spreading your legs for him. His touch is warm and familiar, gentle and sweet, with an underlying hunger for you despite the amount of times he's made love to you before. "A messy, fucked-out, beautiful mess." The door to the ensuite opens and DJ hesitates for a moment before leaning against the door, watching the two of you.

"You gonna show him how we usually do it? He was wondering if you were as good as I said you are?" You tease and Poe smirks.

"Ohh, I'll show him." He replies confidently, fitting his hips between your thighs. You pull him down against you, his forehead pressed against yours, his eyes softened, thumbs brushing soothing circles on your hips. "You love showing off like this, don't you?" He lowers his voice and you get a glimpse of DJ out of the corner of your eye, leaning against the wall, arms folded across his broad chest. You lower you voice as well, your words for Poe's ears only.

"Yeah but he was wondering if you take care of me. He cares about me, hon, in his own weird way." You tell him and his expression turns tender.

"I can see that." His lips seal over yours in a slow kiss. "And I take god care of you, don't I?"

"You do. I wanna show him how good you are to me." You run your fingers through his curls, nuzzling against his jaw, feeling his stubble lightly rasp against your temple.

"Then let's give him a show."

With one, smooth motion, Poe slides himself home, letting out a soft groan at the feeling of being completely surrounded, embedded within you. After so long, it feels so natural with him but not dull — never that — because, whenever you look up at him and he's gazing down at you, gauging your reactions and making sure you're alright, you get this warmth blooming in the centre of your chest, this little voice in the back of your head that says 'this is the man you married'. This man. This lovely, dumb, sexy, gorgeous man. Poe Dameron. And it never fails to astound you just how perfect he is. It feels natural and familiar but it also feels new and perfect.

Slow, deep thrusts as he presses kisses to your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, your lips. Wherever he can't reach with his mouth he covers with his hands, ensuring every inch of you is soothed by his touch. You barely register the sounds you're making. They feel so distant and far away, especially when you get lost in his eyes or when he steals your breath away with a kiss. It's like he's all around you, smothering you in a soft, cotton candy cocoon of affection.

Your lips are moving but your head is completely blank, your warm breath on his neck as you whisper praises into his skin. "You like that?" He murmurs and you nod.

"But...can I be on top for a bit?"

Without hesitation, Poe rolls over onto his back, looking up at you like you hung the stars for him. Everything else seems to fade away when he looks at you like that, his hands cradling your hips as he guides your slow, rocking thrusts. You brace your hands on his chest, letting your eyes drift shut as you take him in. He's letting out these sweet groans and breathless words of encouragement. Straightening your back, you lift your hands to your chest, lightly pinching and rolling your nipples, letting Poe guide your hips.

While you're trapped in this fog of affection and pleasure, it dawns on you; this is what DJ never gave you. When you were together, when you were working and partying and hopping from system to system, it never felt like this. It was intense and fiery and the physical side of things was amazing but Poe gives you something deeper; emotional fulfilment, which seems to heighten every sense.

The slide of your bodies together is smooth and slow, no need to rush. His hands are on your hips, your thighs, your stomach, appreciating every bit of you that he can reach as he watches you ride him with a kind of starstruck adoration.

Honestly, it doesn't even matter what DJ thinks. He can think what he damn well pleases.

This is fun. Not getting drunk and passing out in some back-alley near a cantina, no. Making love to the man you married, the man who appreciates you every day, who holds you up when you're down, who laughs at your jokes holds you when you cry. This is your idea of fun. And it's a damn good idea, you think.

"Baby..." The softest whisper brings you out of your reverie and you look down at him.

"You gonna cum inside me, honey?" You ask, voice breathless and sweet. From the sweat on his brow and the flush in his cheeks, you can tell he's close.

"Yeah..." You lean down, thread your fingers into his hair and press your lips to his, parting them and inviting him into your mouth. He takes the opportunity, sliding his tongue inside, moaning against your lips, as he spills inside you. He fills you with pulse after pulse, blunt nails biting into your hips as he grows light-headed from the pleasure. His load slowly drips out and oozes down around his cock and you keep holding on, keep rolling your hips, until he breaks away, panting, eyes lidded and full of love, as fresh as the day you met.

Finally, the finisher. You sit up and turn back to DJ, who's still leant against the wall, an odd expression on his usually impish features. It looks like satisfaction and pride...and longing. You hold out a hand and give him a smile, warm, inviting.

"Come here. Your wildcat needs you." You tell him and he hesitates for a moment before he reaches up to shrug off his coat, tugging off his clothes.

When he finally crawls up onto the bed, Poe doesn't move, allowing him to join the intimate space without feeling intrusive. His breath hitches as he shuffles behind you, large hands finding your waist with an uncharacteristic gentleness. One of your hands finds Poe's as the other tangles into DJ's and you turn your head to meet the slicer's gaze. He looks bewildered, almost. Like he's stumbled across something sacred. "Cyar'ika." It falls from your lips like a prayer; the name you used to call him, a reminder of where you met. He freezes for a moment before he leans down to press a kiss to the nape of your neck; an apology, you think, for all the times he took you for granted. He wraps an arm around your waist, nuzzling against the bend of your neck, before sheathing himself inside you beside Poe. The stretch is intense but wonderful. They don't move, just linger there, as you lay your head back to rest on DJ's shoulder, giving him better access. "A-Ahh... I missed you, cyar'ika." You murmur softly and DJ swallows hard, gathering you up in his arms and burying his face against your skin.

"I missed you too, k-k-kitya..."

Slow, shallow movements. It's almost overwhelming. Both DJ and Poe seem to lose themselves in the moment; the feeling of you, the sounds you make, the way you hold onto them. You turn your head to nuzzle against the slicer's temple and he makes this grumbling, purring sound; not aroused as such but contented — like a big cat — a sound reserved only for you. He mouths at your neck, kissing and biting lightly, not enough to bruise but just enough to feel, enough to keep you grounded. One of his hands slide down, fingers lightly rubbing over the hood of your clit, as they both move within you. Pleasure rushes through you at the touch, the fullness, the sheer intimacy of the moment. It's a heady feeling, sweet and intoxicating. It seems DJ learned something too; simply how to be vulnerable. And it has him broken behind you, nuzzling your neck, licking along the line of your collarbone.

Your breath comes in shallow gasps, your chest swelling with warmth, full to bursting. You're overwhelmed.

When you tilt your head back, catching DJ's eye, he really stops to see what he previously refused to; the heartache, the anger, the love and the lost years in between. He can't find the words so just pressed his face into your hair, holding onto you tightly. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you squeeze their hands. You're so close. So close now...

White-hot pleasure flushes through you, bringing the world down on you in a cacophony of sound, touch and emotion. Your vision whites out and there's a ringing in your ears. You shudder violently as you reach your peak and you let out these weak, shaky gasps.

"We've got you, baby. We've got you." Poe's voice calls out from the void and you feel him sit up, trapping you between him and DJ. Your body goes completely taut and then completely limp, mewling and whimpering with every slight touch of your skin. Your head lolls forward, forehead pressed to Poe's shoulder. "Baby?"

"Mmmm...?" You manage and he presses a kiss just below your ear, earning himself a little shiver and a high, quiet whine. You're trembling and clammy in their arms.

"You okay?" Poe asks and you struggle to string a sentence together.

"Y-Yeah... But I... I can't...feel my legs..." You murmur. That pulls a soft chuckle from DJ as he runs a hand along your thigh.

"That's just your body overloading, kitya. Looks like you sh-short-circuited yourself." He murmurs softly before he pulls his hips back, forcing a soft, breathless sob from your lips.

"Do you... Don't you guys wanna...?"

"Shhh..." Poe gently lifts you off his cock and settles you in his lap, cradling you against his chest. "I think you've had enough for tonight."

"Don't worry about us. We're good. Y-Y-You just relax, yeah?" DJ climbs off the bed and you nod as Poe lays back, resting your head on his chest and tucking your body against his side. The slicer stands awkwardly by the bed for a moment, watching Poe wrap a protective arm around you, his free hand stroking your arm as you nestle into his chest. With a small, tired smile, he looks up at DJ and pats the spot behind you.

"Hey, c'mon. There's room for one more."

Carefully, DJ spoons you from behind, pressing a tentative kiss to your shoulder before wrapping an arm around your waist, resting his hand lightly on your stomach. Poe brushes his lips against your hair, his chest rising and falling with soft, contented breaths.

"Thanks, guys..." You manage. "I hope you enjoyed this...as much as I did..."

"Baby, there's no question that we did." Poe assures you and DJ nods in agreement, his breath warm on your ear as he nuzzles your neck, voice low and rough.

"You're still incredible, kitya. Never should've d-doubted you. My wildcat's still in there, still going strong." He murmurs and you lazily tilt your head up to look at Poe, one hand sliding down to hold DJ's own.

"I think..." You yawn, curling up between the two men. "I think I might...just close my eyes for a bit..."

"Mmm. You go ahead and get some rest, baby. You earned it."

"We've got you, kitya."

[breyito]

Fear your sins, not your monsters: Part Two: Tortured Souls

@painlandweek Day 2: Leyends

Part 1 Part 3 Chapters: 2/4 Fandom: Dead Boy Detectives (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence Relationships: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland, Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne & Charles Rowland, Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne & Crystal Palace Characters: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Charles Rowland (DCU) Additional Tags: Protective Edwin Paine | Edwin PayneUnhinged Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Violence, Torture, Hurt Charles Rowland (DCU), Sickfic, love language: acts of service, painlandweek, BAMF Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Angst with a Happy Ending

A/N: Goodness gracious. This chapter is a behemoth. I think I have not written so much in one go since...2019? When the fires of wrath at Tony's death still lived within me lmao (im still mad, but im also tired now) Anyways!!! This took so long because the scenes just kept needing to be written out and out! And the dialogue! So.much.dialogue. Also, WARNING: there are some descriptions and threats of rape/non-con (about ocs and towards Crystal), so, *please* be careful. These ghosts are some real scumbags. As always, English is not my first language and I have no beta. Also, it's near 5AM, so. Any edits that need doing I'll do later. Enjoy!

Part Two: Tortured Souls

“What-t the fuck do you even want!? ” screamed Charles, after the thirteenth time he was transported from the rocks on the shore onto the cold concrete floor. He punched the floor in frustration but it didn’t make any difference: he wouldn’t feel it even if he tore out chunks of it. He’d tried that, digging his way out, but it was no use; the fucking room returned to its original state no matter what he did. 

(He’d also tried to break the iron bars on the window, but no matter how much of his hands he burned while trying, it was useless. The only thing it did was multiply the pain when he got thrown into the freezing depths again.)

He clenched his teeth while clothing himself again. He heard a giggle that sent another shiver down his spine and to the very core of his essence. 

“Oh, I’m just softening you up, kid.” the witch answered, an incorporeal voice just in his ear. Charles jumped and whirled around, but there was no one. 

“Softening me for what !?” he insisted. “How long do you plan to keep doing this for!?”

“Well…until you no longer have any fight in you, of course.” She giggled again. “That’s the best way to break in a new toy.” 

“I’m not a bloody toy !” he yelled, incandescently furious. The first dregs of a new kind of dread were emerging, and he didn’t like that one bit.

“You are now. Mmm, the things he’ll do to you when he comes back…”she teased, like the mere thought gave her pleasure. She sighed. “It’ll be delicious .”

Charles choked on his helplessness, and tried really hard to be more angry than scared. He almost manages to convince himself he succeeded. 

“See you later, baby. The lake needs time to freeze over, you know.” Just like that, the heavy presence was gone. 

Dawn had come while they talked. Still shivering, Charles curled up on the concrete floor, trying to place himself on the faint rays of sunlight. Not for the first time in his afterlife, he wished he could feel their heat as well as he could feel this permanent cold. It felt like he had never known warmth. Like the golden light of a lantern reflected on a pair of soft green eyes had only ever been an illusion.

Still, he kept Edwin’s face on his mind. The furrow of his eyebrows, the twitch of his nose when he wanted to say something and knew he shouldn’t, the sharp angle of his cheekbones….the tempting bow of his lower lip, just begging to be kissed. 

God…I wished I had just told you. I’m sorry, Edwin. I’m so sorry.  

—- —-- —--

—- —-- —--

By the time Crystal’s alarm went off, it was far past noon already. A part of her wanted to yell at Edwin for letting her oversleep when they were in a crisis, but as she looked around the office and noticed the complete state of chaos it was in, the words died in her throat. 

Edwin was dressed impeccably, though, sharp and without a hair out of place. Somehow, despite being only in his vest and coat, he seemed…more put together than usual. When the light hit him just right, he looked like a threat . It was unsettling, and made her feel ill at ease. But she pushed through it, because this was her friend, worried sick about their other missing friend.

Still, the way his fists kept meeting one another, and the now black gloves he wore gave away his agitation; and choked her up a bit. He had Charles’ necklace around his neck, and he was squeezing it between his fingers after every third time he smashed his knuckles together.

“Hey” she said, as she stood up from the couch.

“Good morning.” Edwin said, turning. “We have plenty to do today, but since the places we need to get to are not open before sundown, we have time for you to grab a bite.”

“I’m fine-”she tried to say.

“Crystal.” he interrupted. “You are alive , and thus have certain basic needs that have to be met for your presence to be beneficial to Charles’ rescue.” He took a deep breath. “If you insist on becoming a hindrance by refusing to take those necessary steps; I have no problem leaving you bound here in the office, until I get him back.” The tone of his voice left her no doubt he was completely serious, and would, in fact, leave her trapped in this room.

“Fuck, fuck , allright.” she conceded, as she put on her shoes. “But you will fill me in on what you found in the meantime.” Edwin tilted his head. 

“Very well.” with that he turned around and crossed through the door. Cursing under her breath, she hurried to follow him.

—-- —-- —--

 Once they were situated in a caffe with her meal in front of her and her earpiece very visible to avoid unwanted attention, she gestured for him to explain. Edwin, sitting across the table, cleared his throat and started.

“As we suspected, I cannot find him through usual tracking spells. This magic user has hidden their signatures too well for that.” He shifted in the seat, looking around before taking out his notebook. “However, I can track the ghost that hired us and lead us right to the trap.”

“Why haven’t you done that already then?”

“Because, first of all, at least back in the church, he had items that made him stronger and managed to escape after hurting Charles but just before he was taken and all the mirrors shattered.”

“So he’s tricky, is what you mean.”

“Exactly. We have no way of knowing if the witch provided him those items solely for the trap or if he has more of them. I’d hate to be ill prepared to face him, especially with you in tow.”

“I can handle myself.” she refuted, tone harsh.

“Crystal.” Edwin waited until she looked him in the eye, which was rare for him so she did. “I may not be very good at social interactions, but I did notice the way he was looking at you. It made me uncomfortable, so I can only imagine what it was like for you.”

“Well.” she said with a strained smile, eyes focused on her plate. “It’s not like it's the first time.” Crystal saw him hesitating on the corner of her eye, and then felt a slight pressure on her sleeve. She looked up and saw him give her a pained smile back.

“I am under no impression that what I experience when I use my disguises is anywhere near the real life, constant feeling of being under scrutiny and threat from those kinds of…men. And while the hardships I suffered when I was alive may give me some insight, it is not the same. But it is not normal and it is not okay.” He looked away for a tick before looking back at her. “In the future, we’ll try to screen these types of clients better. If they cannot treat you with the appropriate respect, they do not deserve our help.” He squeezed her arm once before letting go.

Done with sentimentalities for the time being, he leaned back and busied himself with his notes. Crystal, feeling like she had been punched in the throat, focused back on her meal and tried not to cry.

When enough time had passed that she felt she could speak without sounding choked, she set down her glass and tapped the table to get his attention back.

“You said we needed to go somewhere that wouldn’t be ‘open’ until night. Where is that? Some sort of library, a supernatural store…?”

“Not this time. Are you familiar with the term ‘black market’?” The ghost asked.

“Are you kidding? There’s a black market for magical stuff?” she hissed. “Wouldn’t that just be a regular magical market or whatever?”

“Oh, no. The supernatural world works on complicated networks. Usually, for regular cases, we can go to above board individuals or shops. But sometimes, less… moral objects are needed, and the Obscure Mart is the ideal place to obtain them.”

“Obscure Mart? Damn, you guys really love your theatrics, don’t you?”

“Of course.” he smirked. “That’s half the fun of all of it.” She was tempted to ask what the other half was, but feared getting off track.

“What do we need from this black market then?”

“Ideally, truth spells talismans. The iron chains to contain him are already inside the bag.” he pointed to Charles’ backpack. “Then, maybe some holy oil. Our reserve is quite small, and I’d rather have a larger circle than a small one.”

“Wait a minute. Holy oil? Isn’t that the stuff that can disintegrate a ghost if they touch it?”

“Indeed. Do you remember the abandoned warehouse of the Mc’Call case?” at her nod, he continued. “My plan is to catch unawares, and push him through a mirror into the building. I have already set up a salt circle to avoid him escaping, but I believe a holy fire around that circle will be better.”

“Isn’t that super dangerous?”

“It has its risks, but I think it is worth it. Besides, once you get there, you’ll put out the fire.” He adds.

“I mean, the warehouse is not far from here, but  how do we know that this guy won’t be in, like, Tanzania?” 

“These types usually have a pattern. As we’ve seen, he’s lazy, a pervert and from London. I don’t think he’s gone far at all.”

“Fine, ok. Also, truth spells? Couldn’t you just” she waves her fingers “do one?”

“Not at all. As a form of incantation, truth spells are useless. Truth spells talismans are one of the trickiest bits of magic and do work. The runes need to be in a specific pattern, written down in a special paper, with a particular ink, prepared in a confluence of the ley lines and only in certain phases of the moon.”  

“Well, damn. Off to the black market we go, then.” 

Ignoring the alarmed look from the waitress, she left a tip and got up to follow the ghost boy. 

—-- —-- —--

—- —-- —--

The entrance to the Obscure Mart was hidden in an ancient alleyway, behind a brick wall. Crystal had to bite her tongue not to make any Harry Potter related comments. (She had no desire to listen to another rant about how Rowling did the whole community a huge disservice, since she’d have to defend the world of Harry Potter but not the author because fuck that terf; and she hasn’t got the energy for that).

The market was a lively place, if a bit well, dark. Actual-for-realsies torches were the main source of light. The fires were of multiple colours though, which is cool. There were some stores she could see, but it seemed to be mostly tables and tents at the sides of the very long alley, with some narrow corridors on both sides. It’s not empty, but it’s not packed either. The first person that waved at them smiled, then looked behind Edwin at Crystal, and swallowed.

“Hi, Edwin!” They look behind the teens again. “Where’s Charles?” They ask, barely keeping the smile on their face.

“Taken.” Edwin said, curt. The person talking to them paled and then cursed softly. Crystal bit her lip not to question the wisdom of admitting such a thing, keeping in mind the ghost’s warning before going in: she was not to speak unless directly questioned.. “I need you to point me in the direction of Garreth Gadget?” he asked. Crystal blinked twice and tried not to snort at the name. 

“Y-yeah, sure. He’s on the seventh entrance tonight.” With barely a nod in acknowledgment, Edwin kept walking. 

The psychic girl saw the person that was just talking to them whisper something in the ear of their neighbour, and how this kept repeating as they walked down the road. As she turned to see the reactions of the beings around them she wished she could take the time to gape at all the crazy stuff. There was a giant ass tank with a giant ass glowing and mean looking octopus wearing a tophat that suddenly pulled all his limbs into a little ball and tried to hide behind his tophat . 

“-but who would be this stupid ?” asked a green girl with wings, fluttering agitatedly around her equally colourful friends. Crystal was calling her fairy for now and save the terminology for another day.

  “...yeah, probably someone new…” a sinister matronly ghost whispered to the man next to her, fussing over her wares.

“-ou think we’ll have another Bog Witch situation?” asked a… spooky talking tree?? Everyone that heard him shivered in unison. 

“ -uck, I hope not. That’d be…horrific.” answered the black cat with the equally black kittens.

Seeing as Edwin had gotten ahead of her anyways, she turned around to question the cat. That was the creature she was most used to, even if they were usually very rude.

“What ‘Bog Witch situation’?” she asked, intrigued. 

“Shhh!” The kittens shushed her in unison, eyes wide. They all hurried to hide behind their mother.

“You don’t know about the Bog Witch?” the cat asked, tilting her head.

“ What Bog Witch?”

“Exactly!” the green fairy answered, nodding. 

“No, really. What Bog Witch? And why is she so important?” Crystal was starting to lose her patience. There was a very awkward pause. “I’m new to this supernatural shit, alright? Is it some sort of legend or lore I don’t know about? Does it have anything to do with Edwin?”

“... it’s more like an urban legend. About what happened to her.” whispered a goth human boy. She assumed he was either a psychic or a warlock. He kept looking around, like Edwin would suddenly pop up out of nowhere.

“More like what that boy did to her.” muttered the ghost of a firefighter. 

“It’s not like it wasn’t deserved.” defended the matronly ghost.

“And what happened to her? Did Edwin… kill her?”Crystal asked, apprehensive.

“Oh, no.” the boy snorted. She relaxed slightly. “ Way worse. He erased her from existence. She and her Bog.”

“Which was an overreaction, in my opinion.” added the tree. 

“Erased her from existence…? That can happen? Wouldn’t people notice a whole ecosystem disappearing one day to the next?”

“Not in this case. When we say he ‘erased her from existence’ we mean completely . There are no traces, no records, no memories of them. Us supernatural creatures are the only ones that remember the Witch or the Bog.” Explained the fairy.

“Only faint traces, tho.” The firefighter added. “I assume as a warning.”

“You assume correctly.” Edwin stated, suddenly at her side. Everyone jumped back and quickly scampered away. He grabbed her arm and began leading her back down the road.

“Wait, wait, wait.” she said, stopping. Edwin sighed loudly and turned around, one eyebrow raised. “A warning about what?” she asked.

“About what I am willing to do to get Charles back. There are not many things that fall outside that list.” Crystal shook her head, incredulous.

Before she could question him further Edwin turned around snarling and grabbed a ghost by the shoulder, slamming him against the wall with a single hand. Said ghost was a guy, maybe in his thirties, and looked like the cartoon of a dealer, big brown trench coat and everything.

“Trying to avoid me, Garreth?” Edwin asked.

“Look, kid-”the man started, before yelping as said boy pressed his thumb deep into his clavicle. “Wait, wait-! Whatever you need, okay? I wasn’t sure I’d have what you wanted-”

“I need some truth spells talismans.” Edwin interrupted him. “I’m prepared to pay you handsomely for them.”

“ Truth spells ? I’m afraid I can’t help you there, mate. You know they are incredibly hard to come by-”

“I do. Which is why I know only you would have them tonight.”

“I’m sorry, lad, but-”

“I’ll trade you the immersive copy of the Kamasutra you always try to get your paws on.” The man’s eyes darkened immediately, but he shook his head.

“ Very tempting offer but-”

“Or I can just steal your coat and slice it open until it spills everything you have in there.” Edwin extended his free hand, and swallowing, Crystal put the knife he had given her earlier in it.  

“I’ll take it! Of course I will.” Edwin backed off to let him search the inside pockets of his trench then. “I was planning on using it on my lass, but fuck it. These birds can’t mouth off, can they?” he said, licking his lips. 

Crystal saw Edwin’s shoulders tense in disgust, but knew he couldn’t grimace; so she grimaced for both of them. Garreth finally took a single sheet of paper and gave it to them.

“It’s the only one I’ve got!” he defended himself at their unimpressed looks. “The wife is tricky, alright? Can never get her with these…”he mumbled. 

Edwin inhaled deeply and took a book from inside his own pocket, waving it in front of the man. 

“Holy oil, then, for the rest of it.”

“Hey-!”

“I can always give you just half the book and you can see if it still functions as intended.” he threatened.

“Fine, fine!” the man conceded. “Jeez.” He took a little clay pot from another pocket, tapping the waxed seal as he handed it over. “Straight from Jerusalem.” 

Edwin pressed the book against Garreth’s chest and turned around, pocketing the talisman and the oil. They both began walking, ignoring the wet sounds as the man licked his lips over and over.

They also ignored the way the rest of the beings in the Obscure Mart hunched over, some even hiding under their tables. On the corner of her eye she saw the octopus still in a little ball, just with ink spilled around it. As they left the market and arrived at the normal alley, Crystal stopped Edwin with a hand on his arm.  

“This isn’t like you, Edwin.” she said, softly. “This…brute force? The constant threat of violence? It’s like…”

“I’m Charles?” he finished, sarcastic. “We are not so different in our devotion as it might seem, Crystal.”

“I don’t buy that.” she said. Edwin let out a dry chuckle. “He’s our friend, but-”

“Crystal, you've seen him without me. You have never seen me without him .” he interrupted, eyes stone cold. “I know you think you know how our dynamic works. You think I keep him contained when I’m around, don’t you? Leashed , as some would say?” he smiled, and it was terrifying.  “Oh, dear Crystal....You have got no clue how savage I can be in the shadow of his absence.” 

Crystal took a step back, and Edwin seemed to become smaller. He turned his back on her and rubbed his hand all over his face. 

“I don’t like what I become when he’s threatened, Crystal.” he admitted, looking at the sky. “I’m aware that I can be quite brutal, and that regret is not in my vocabulary when these things happen.” He inhaled. “But this is the only way I know to get him back.”

“Edwin…” she whispered, tearing up.

“He’s always protecting me , saving me . Just yesterday he got injured and distracted because I couldn’t defend myself. Now I have to be strong for the both of us, and be tough enough to do whatever is necessary to save him.” 

Edwin wiped off a teardrop from his cheek, but more just kept falling. Crystal thought ‘Fuck it, they are my boys and I’m not about to lose either one of them’ and hugged him tight. Surprising her, Edwin hugged her back.

“I can’t lose him, Crystal, I can’t .” he whispered, voice trembling. “If you can’t stomach my methods I don’t blame you, but-”

“No, no. ” she interrupted him. “This is for our friend, and as long as you don’t hurt anyone innocent-”

“I promise.” Edwin said. 

“Then you do whatever you need to do to find him.” They separated and smiled weakly at each other, wiping the wetness off their faces. “Now, c’mon, we have a perv ghost to find.”

—-- —-- —--  

—- —-- —--

After finishing the holy oil circle and doing the tracking spell, they had an address. They found their perverted ghost perving on some girls in a club’s bathroom downtown, of course. Crystal setted off the fire alarm so that the bar emptied as Edwin surprised the man. As soon as she saw them disappear through the surface, she turned around and left. Fortunately it was the middle of the week, so her Uber should get to their location quickly enough.

Edwin pushed the ghost through the mirror with a surge of magic, right into the warehouse’s trap. The circle of holy fire was already alight. Edwin quickly followed suit and broke the mirror to prevent an escape. While getting iron shackles to bound the other ghost with, the man shook off the effects of the spell and got up. 

“You again, little boy?” he mocked. “Didn’t get enough of this, did you?” he laughed as he threw a marked stone at Edwin. The boy knocked the stone off course with the chain, and took advantage of the extended arm to get the cuff around it. “ Bloody hell !” the man cursed, trying to shake the metal burning him loose. He desperately patted his pockets with his other arm, trying to reach another stone loaded spell. “Why isn’t this burning you!? ” he yelled.

“It is.” Edwin answered, before reciting an incantation in Latin. “I just don’t care.” He let go of one of the chains as it seemed to become alive, and sent them in the direction of the other ghost. 

The man dodged and tried to run, but Edwin pulled from the chain already around his arm and he fell to the floor. The enchanted chain snaked around the man until he was covered in them, then pulled both arms behind his back and locked them there. The man fell to his knees, and Edwin couldn’t stop thinking how much he looked like a worm. 

Once that was done, he waited for Crystal so she could snuff off the fire. Ignoring the snarls and the cursing, Edwin took off his notebook from his pocket and revised his notes once more. The list of questions he needed to ask hadn’t changed, but it made him feel better. 

About half an hour later, Crystal arrived. Immediately, she broke the salt circle with her shoe and snuffed the oil with the short incantation Edwin had taught her. Edwin nodded in thanks and opened his mouth, but she cut him off.

“I’m staying.”  

Edwin agreed to it, shighing. 

“Fuck” laughed the ghost. “The black bitch is here too? What a party!” he whooped. They both ignored him. 

Taking the talisman out of his pocket, Edwin slapped it against the other ghost’s throat. The ink burned off the paper as it transferred to the man’s skin.

“Do you know where Charles is?” was the first and most important question Edwin had. The man smirked and opened his mouth to give some bullshit answer.

“Of course I don’t, that wench gave me one job and I did it.” Instead, he answered honestly. “What was that?” he asked, alarmed. “What the fuck was that!?” he yelled as he got no response.

“What is your connection with the person that took Charles?” Edwin continued, not letting the disappointment choke him. Of course this lackey didn’t know, it would have been too easy otherwise.

The man tried to bite his lip, but it was useless. The runes glowed and he had to answer.

“That witch?” he laughs. “She was my late mate’s girl. Awesome catch, she is.”

“Why?” asked Crystal.

“Lil’ bit hard to find a bitch that knows how to enjoy herself, huh?” he winked at her as he licked his lips and the blood he spilled. “Hell, sometimes I think she enjoyed it more than we did.”

“...enjoyed what?” asked Edwin, confused. The man laughed as the runes glowed, head thrown back.

“All the girls and boys we completely destroyed.” He said, proudly. Both teens froze . “Fuck, we had such a good run too! There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do, wouldn’t get, for him. Chains, chain saws ? Done. Knives, blowtorches, pliers? Easy. Even got us a speculum once.” he kept on, a sickening longing look on his face. “That was…a hell of a week.”

“Stop.” said Edwin, feeling nauseous. Fortunately, the runes glowed after that command too, rendering the man silent. While the other ghost silently laughed at them, Edwin checked on Crystal. She nodded at him to continue, swallowing. 

“What happened to your…friend?” The man bit his tongue again, but the words kept coming.

“I told you, didn’t I? He died. We both did. Went in a fucking gaze of glory.”

“The police killed you.” Edwin stated. “I don’t remember anything about them stopping a pair of…serial rapists.”

“Oi, have some respect for our skills, we also killed them.” he laughed again at their faces. ”And the pigs never found out!” he howled. “Thought we were just robbers, didn't they?”

The fact that these two monsters were still undiscovered sat like lead on the teens' stomachs. They looked at each other and nodded at the same time. They would get the names of the victims, try and give their families some closure. (Make sure those poor souls went to rest in Heaven.)

“And where is your friend now? Is he working with the witch?” Edwin asked. He lasted longer this time, a trickle of blood getting to his chin. 

“Nah. I saw him get dragged down by something inside a red light, didn’t I? So I ran. Ran back to our flat, and there I found her. Turned out the shite she spouted about energies and magic and whatever bollocks was true.” He shook his head and tilted it to the side, leaving it there.

“And then what happened? What does she want with Charles?” As the rapist’s ghost bit his tongue, the blood finally reached the runes, and cut through them. They glowed once, twice and then dulled. “No!” Edwing screamed. “What does she want with Charles!?”

The other ghost just kept laughing. 

“What are you gonna do now, little boy!? All outta spells already!?” he mocked. He spat on the floor and looked at them with a predatory smile that centred on Crystal. “If you want to hear me talk so much, I can sure tell you what I’d do to this black wench.” He licked his teeth. “Usually my tastes aren’t so exotic , but I’ll make an exception for you, birdie. You look…just so -” he’s interrupted by said ‘birdie’ kicking him in the balls. He wheezed, still laughing.

Edwin, very calmly, walked Crystal back a few steps and stood in front of her, so she wouldn’t have to see that monster’s face.

“It seems I will be extracting the information physically.” he stated, taking off his coat. “You should leave, Crystal.” he said as he took an ornate dagger from his pocket.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to…read him?” she asked, wanting nothing more than leave this place where this monster felt so fucking comfortable. The last thing she wanted was to read this fucking jerk and fill her head with the horrors he had committed, but she would if Edwin couldn’t do it.

“It’s not necessary-” he started.

“Yeah!” the man screamed behind them. “Sure you don’t want her to do this?” he laughed. “Your iron knives don’t scare me, boy.”

Edwin lifted an eyebrow in question to Crystal and she nodded. She started walking away as he turned around and smiled at the bound man.

“Oh, this isn’t iron.” he said, clicking his tongue. Edwin waited until the sound of the door closing before continuing. “This is cursed silver . This is not just going to burn you. This is going to ground you in your body in a way you haven’t felt since the day you died.” He carefully traced the edge of the man’s right eye with the blade. “And then, it’s going to turn each and every one of those sensations into agony .” He laughed. The other ghost swallowed, paling. 

“You think I can’t take a little bit of pain?” he still asked, full of bravado.

“ You took my partner away from me .” Edwin snarled. “Do you think I’m only going to inflict a little bit of pain on you?”  

“You wouldn’t.” he objected “You’re not corrupt enough.” the man stated, trying to sound certain but looking wearily at the blade.

“Haven’t you heard? I spent 73 years in Hell.” He slowly walked around the bound ghost, to stop behind him and whisper. “And among my own suffering, I learned many, many things there.” Edwin took off his gloves and let them fall to the floor one by one as he kept walking.

“How to unmake someone apart piece by piece is just one of the lessons.” He caught the terrified gaze of the rapist ghost. “I bet you think you know all about that, don’t you?” He stopped and looked him dead in the eyes. “Only you never had the chance to do it all over again. And again. And again .  So why don’t you let me show you?”

—-- —-- —-- 

Crystal walked outside feeling defeated. She hated it, but she thought that perhaps Edwin would not be able to do it, after the talk they had earlier. And then she would have to read that disgusting mind. She jumped on top of a pile of pallets and shoved her headphones on her head, putting on a metal playlist, just in case.

Not too early, either.

Some really ear-shattering screams begin a few minutes after she leaves. She tried very, very hard to convince herself the screams she heard were coming from the artists.

—-- —-- —-- 

By the time the screams had turned into choked whimpers, hours had passed. Crystal had resorted to putting on her headphones and turning her music to the highest volume, to ignore it. She knew the man inside was the worst kind of scum on this Earth, but he was still a person. He deserved to be punished for all he had done before and what he had done to Charles. This was all for information, she kept telling herself. She would do a lot of things not to lose another friend.

As Edwin walked out of the warehouse, just in his vest and shirt, she noticed he was… covered in blood would be an overstatement, but not by much. His sleeves were dyed red in places and his bare hands were bright pink. As he approached her, he did a movement with one of his hands and the same black smoke she had seen earlier as they did the tracking spell cleaned it all up, almost… devouring the blood he had had on his person.

“You learned anything useful?” she asked, hopeful.

“Yes, rather.” Edwin answered, before his coat wrapped him up and he fixed his gloves. “We should be going, though, we have no time to lose.”

“What? Why?” Crystal said as she jumped down the pallets she had been sitting on to follow him. Red light spilling from the broken windows of the building was her answer. “He’s moving on? Why?” she asked, completely baffled, as she reached his side. The dude had seen his rapist BFF being dragged down to Hell.

“I…convinced him that it was in his best interest to not be within my reach when this case is through. I suppose he thought his chances of surviving Hell are greater than his chances of surviving me .” 

She swallowed a few times, shocked. Noticing she had stopped, Edwin turned around.

“Shall we, Crystal?” he asked, eyebrow lifting.

[butterflywithsass]

The good, the bad, and the ineffable omens. What makes Good Omens special.

I'm not very good at making posts on here so sorry if the formatting sucks. It's the anniversary of season two, and thinking back on everything, it's incredible how much has happened since it came out. I might get a bit long-winded, so if that's not your thing, just scroll on by. I'm just gonna take a look at why I love Good Omens, why I love the Good Omens fandom, and what the future holds for all of us who love this story.

I guess you could say I'm a bit of a new fan. I watched the first season in 2019. I liked it but I didn't really think about it until I heard it was getting a second season, and I decided to watch it again.

This second watch came at a very strange time in my life. I'd left my very introverted homeschool life behind to go to an art school in another state. I was studying creative writing, and just beginning to dream that I might be an actual writer someday. I've always gotten intensely invested in stories, a part of my ADHD that I've always struggled with. I find a story, and it consumes my soul. I have difficulty expressing emotions in real life, so stories have been an outlet for me to feel things in the persona of a character. It's this incredible power that makes me love storytelling so much. I could go on and on about the beauty of this, but that will get a bit to much so I'll move on. Mah point is...

whenever I would get really invested in a story, my parents would indulge me, but would always feel the need to mention, "You know it's not real, right?"

Anyway, for the first time, I was away from home and I could really indulge in stories without the pressure to disconnect from it to avoid the judgment of my family. For the first time, I could just be in love with a story.

A lot happened during the first year away from home, not all of which is relevant, but around this time I started owning up to my identity as bisexual. Being at an art school meant I was surrounded by queer people from all backgrounds, not all of them had the same support I did, and I witnessed secondhand as my friends went through the pain of having homophobic families who would control what art they made and who they spent time with, threatening to withdraw them from the school if they used certain names or pronouns. It was common for my friends to have a sort of shorthand code for when it was safe to use their preferred name or pronoun. Some came from very religious households, and so religion had been linked very closely to repression.

Good Omens came at a time when I was stretching my wings both in my identity as a person and as a writer and has informed what I write about ever since. As a writer, my work often focuses on themes such as fate and free will, religion and passion, divinity and humanity, and apocalyptic images. Additionally, Good Omens encouraged me to embrace comedy in my writing and to explore the absurd and whimsical. It helped me let go of the vice that held me back from writing things I thought weren't intellectual enough, or weren't creative enough.

I also became aware of the people behind the show, and of course, I grew to admire Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. I admired how Neil Gaiman seemingly defied the inevitable fate of obscure and unsuccessful writers. To me, Neil Gaiman was an example of how writers could actually make it out there in the world. Terry Pratchett, I admit, took less of an interest in because he had been long dead before I became acquainted with Good Omens, and I mistakenly gave Neil Gaiman more credit for the tv show. If you want to know more about why I saw "mistakenly," check out @vidavalor where they talk about the other writers on the show and how much they contributed. It's really quite eye-opening and it gives me hope that the show can continue well enough without Gaimen.

I also grew to become a fan of David Tennent and Micheal Sheen. And when I say a fan of David Tennent, I mean a BIG fan. The Good Omens to Doctor Who pipeline is so f*cking steep I felt like Crowley during the fall. Not just Who, though, I watched stuff like Taking Over the Asylum, Einstein and Eddington, Around the World in 80 Days, Broadchurch, Jessica Jones, Escape Artist, f*king Single Father lol. I even got into Shakespeare because of David Tennent.

The love displayed by the actors for Good Omens feels truly special. Micheal Sheen's devotion to the story shines through in everything he says about it, and David Tennent, though not originally a fan, seems to have grown more and more fond of the story. I think it's not a reach of our imagination to say that the story has become very special to both of them, even more so than to us.

It's rare to see actors treat their roles as more than just a job. The occasional publicity stunt and press tour interviews aside, the roles actors take seldom stick with them, and I think it's a testament to the power of Good Omens that this is not the case for Micheal and David.

Season 2 came out of course, and we all know how that went down. I was has heartbroken as everyone else by the final 15, but I never had any doubt that the story was destined to have a happy ending.

Unlike some shows, where the story likes to flirt with tragedy to keep viewers hooked, Good Omens is not that kind of show. Amidst the pathos and drama of the Christian/Apocalypse setting, with literal heaven and hell involved, the story is relatively clean. I enjoy some Ineffible Husbands spicy fanfiction of course, but I'm glad that Good Omens has remained relatively kid-friendly. Queer themes are so often included only in "adult media," paired with dark themes and often explicit moments making them inaccessible to kids and cementing the idea that Queerness is inherently inappropriate. While Good Omens has the occasional adult reference such as Madam Tracy's side gig as a dominatrix or the 'seamstress,' they are veiled enough to pass. Even the sex scene with Anathama and Newt is comic enough that it can hardly be classified as one. As for heaven and hell, it would be easy to try and stress the darkness of hell through plenty of disturbing subtexts and the brutality of heaven, but here the show errs towards comedy, portraying both sides as corporate systems -- both funny and much more relatable evil than torture or traumatic scenes. It's easier to understand rude co-workers, degrading comments, overbearing bosses and endless paperwork than it is to understand the sources of our perception of good and evil.

Putting Adam Young as the center of the story of season one focuses the entire narrative. At the end of the day, Good Omens is about the ineffable nature of humanity defying all odds (or gods) betting against it. It's a humanist story, showing us that no matter how much the forces of good or evil might like to influence us, whatever we do will up to us.

This theme is constantly referenced, from Crowley's habit of taking credit for anything evil humans do and claiming it was his idea, to Aziraphale's constant assertions that humans are inherently good. It's exemplified by the baby swap disaster, which is a microcosm of this theme. No matter how much the powers above and below might scheme, they're plans generally end up being irrelevant to the choices of humans.

It's why Crowley and Aziraphale love humans so much. Humans are a guide for them, showing them how they can be more than just good and evil, and on our side, it's a hopeful thought to have, that the powers of good and evil looking down on us, instead of judging us, might actually have fallen in love with us along the way. It shows us that we are allowed to love ourselves.

The love that Aziraphale and Crowley have for each other is also at the heart of this story. While it has been discussed at length, it's for good reason. Because we all need a good love story. Amidst the uncertainty and ceaseless change, there is a constant, unbreaking bond between Crowley and Aziraphale-- steady as the revolution of the cosmos. Nothing in the scope of space and time is certain, but this is. We know that because we've seen it. Good Omens manages to create a love story on both a personal and an archetypal scale. On one level, this is a love story between two people from different worlds finding something familiar in each other. It's got the drama of starcrossed love, the steadiness of an age-old love, still with the butterflies of new feelings. As a queer love story, the hope in it is even more important.

Crowley and Aziraphale have all the qualities of two characters that are doomed by the narrative, and as much as I love those types of stories, this is a story about hope and it demands a happy ending. After all, if those two idiots can't get a happy ending, what hope do the rest of us have?

All this is to say, that while the final 15 was shattering emotionally, and still is, I never once doubted that all would be well eventually.

The recent accusations against Neil Gaiman came as a shock to me. I admittedly didn't know all that much about him as a person, but I looked up to him as a writer, as I said. The more that is revealed, the more truthful they become. I hoped that these allegations would end up as a big misunderstanding, and I questioned the timing just after David Tennent was attacked online for his support of the lgbtq community. However, the more information about Gaimen comes to light, the less it looks like a mistake.

This leaves us in a difficult position. It is not selfish to worry about the future of Good Omens. It is not foolish to be surprised. It is not naive to feel betrayed. It would be easy to come to the conclusion that 'no one should be trusted,' or to feel that the whole story has been tainted. It's so easy to write off the whole story as 'ethically complicated' so you don't have to examine your feelings critically. It's easy to 'boycott,' something so you don't have to deal with it, as if by not engaging with it, it's not real. I would urge you not to do this. boycotting a story is not as simple as just refusing to buy a product. Stories are part of culture and identity, to a certain extent, the person you are hurting the most is yourself.

There's a reason I spent so long describing why Good Omens is such an incredibly powerful story, because Neil Gaiman's actions negate none of that. The meaning of Good Omens is not dependent on the actions of the author. A truth is still true, even from the mouth of a liar.

Before I loved Good Omens, I loved Harry Potter. Despite JK Rowling's general shittiness, Harry Potter has brought goodness to people's lives, and even though some themes in the story ought to be examined more critically, the joy and comfort those stories brought also cannot be ignored. I was ten when I started reading Harry Potter. I was too young to grasp the homophonic or anti-semetic undertones in the story, and ironically, Harry Potter taught me to by an ally before I even knew I was queer. Before reading Harry Potter, I didn't know what gay was. After hearing Dumbledore was 'gay,' I did a google search and looked up the term in a dictionary. I remember my thoughts being, "you can do that?" and then, "why are people so upset?"

The point of this Harry Potter tangent is to say that while the intentions of the author may influence a story, the author ultimately can't control the effect the story will have on others. Once it is published, a significant part of it no longer belongs to them. They can't control what messages other people find in it, and they lose the right to decide what messages are true or not. If Neil Gaimen were to say today that Good Omens is all a very complicated metaphor for masturbation, that announcement would mean zilch.

Additionally, Neil Gaiman isn't even the only author! You don't have to give him all that credit to start with. Once again, refer to @vidavalor for info on the other amazing people who may have had a bigger hand in writing our favorite moments that we thought.

The Good Omens fandom has taught me not to be ashamed for loving a fictional story. I've been in the Lotr, Star Wars, Star Trek, Harry Potter, Marvel, Sherlock, and countless other fandoms, and I can easily say that Good Omens is the most supportive, the most accepting, the most decent online fan community I've found.

We can hang in there. We've loved Good Omens since the book came out, we've loved Good Omens since before I was born, and we loved it even when we lost Terry Pratchett. We loved Good Omens when we thought there would never be a show, and when we thought one season was all there would be. Good Omens has so many kind and talented people behind it and so much love for it. Neil Gaimen will not sink us now. He doesn't have that much power.

@davidtennantgenderenvy also has a video on this that is very thoughtful.

[gynnnicsworld]

So I found this sterek fanfic that has so many parallels to the teen wolf movie, BUT this fic was written in 2019.

And I really need to talk about this fanfic because 1. I don't have anyone to do it with and 2. I was really surprised by some of the parallels in the fic.

This is the fanfic; It was a wednesday by isthatbloodonhisshirt

Words; 80k+

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐(x∞)

Tags;

Okay, the fic has parallels but is not identical, for example, there is no Eli and I have no idea how many years later the story is set.

First I have to say that the fic is about trying to find Stiles, because he is missing, he has been missing for 3 years,and the pack was destroyed because Stiles was basically the glue that held the pack together but with him missing, everything went down the drain.

Everyone loses their mind, everyone hates each other, and Derek returns to Beacon Hills.

→The first parallel I found was that the sheriff and Derek became close and Derek basically took care of the sheriff because he relapsed into alcoholism. As we know in the movie, the sheriff and Derek get along very well and the sheriff even acts as a grandfather to Eli and a father-in-law/friend to Derek.

In this fic things become a little darker due to the sheriff's pain at losing his son and saying many hurtful things to Derek.

→ The other thing I noticed was that the pack was no longer together, each member went their own way, and the entire first part of the fic is about the pack getting together. I mean we have all these EPIC moments of the return of all the members, Kira, Isaac, Liam, Cora, Peter, Lydia, Jackson, and basically EVERYONE.

Except those who are dead, they remained exactly the same; dead, of course they remembered them in the fic, but it was all quite appropriate.

And we all know that the teen wolf movie was about exactly that, about bringing the pack back together but the movie was a million times less epic and very poorly developed 😬. Sorry but not sorry, we all know I'm right about this.

→ Another parallel that surprised me quite a bit was that Derek was a semi-owner and worked In a car mechanical workshop. And that place was really important to Derek.

To be honest it's not my first option to think that Derek was a mechanic, of course after the movie was released that possibility made sense in my mind. But I haven't really read too many fics with that theme, so seeing that the author of the fic even agreed on that with the movie was pretty impressive.

These were probably the main parallels but I guess I could say that "one call" was what changed everything for Derek. And can we please remember how in the movie Derek tells the sheriff to call his son? Yes, thank you, and I honestly think that call would have changed EVERYTHING.

I really recommend this fic, if you have already read it please tell me what your favorite part was and if you are going to read it, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? RUN READ IT! And then come back here so we can talk about that fic. Seriously, Jeff Davis should have opted to hire writers from the sterek fandom to make that movie...the sterek fandom knows how to do things well and they make works of art like THIS.